^IN'. 


s^ 


.  WMM-MWMHWWSWN 


^fje  library 

of  ttie 

©niberssitp  of  iSortjj  Carolina 


Collection  of  J^ortfi  Caroliniana 


fBOK  SOUTHERN  BOOK  CXCHAK^" 
RALEIGH.  N.  C.      "^ 

"to 


DEALERS    IN 

'"^O    RARE    BOOKS.    ETC 


a 


UNIVERSITY  OF  N.C^  AT  CHAPEL  HILL 


000 


HI! 


1 6896548 


^ 


t^Cti-^ix^ 


'Jj  i^\ 


•^ 


iJf 


This  BOOK  may  be  kept  out  TWO  WEEKS 
ONLY,  and  is  subject  to  a  fine  of  FIVE 
CENTS  a  day  thereafter.  It  was  taken  out 
on  the  day  indicated  below: 


mtx 


Tym 


'm^ 


THEN  AND  NOW; 


OR 


HOPE'S  FIRST  SCHOOL. 


-♦«- 


By  ZILLAH  RAYMOND. 


■^»-» »»- 


WILMINGTON,  N.  C: 

JACKSON  *   BELL,   WATER-POWER   PRESSES. 

1883. 


Entered  according  to  Congrefss,  in  the  year  1883,  by  Lou.  H,  Frayser,  In  the  office 
of  Librarian  of  Congress,  at  Washington,  D.  C. 


0- 


TO  MY 

BELOVED  FATHER,   WHO  WITH  MY  PRECIOUS  MOTHER, 

NOW  RESTING  FROM  HER  LABORS, 

LAID  THE  FOUNDATION  OF  ALL  THE    EDUCATION    WHICH  I    POSSESS, 

AND  OF  ALL  THE  USEFULNESS  WHICH  I  CAN  EVER  LAY  CLAIM  TO, 

THIS   LITTLE   VOLUME   IS 
AFFECTIONATELY  DEDICATED  BY  THE  AUTHOR. 


TABLE  OF  CONTENTS. 


■^«  ♦  •♦- 


CHAPTER  FIRST. 

Page. 

Description  of   Tratleville  and   of  Hope    Caldwell.     The    letter. 

Preparation   for  the  journey 1 

CHAPTER  SECOND, 

Hope's  previous  history.    Her  conversation  with  her  mother 7 

CHAPTER  THIRD. 

The  journey.     "Passing  Thoughts."     The  new  home 16 

CHAPTER  FOURTH. 
Hope's  visit  to  the  church.     New  and  old  friends  and  acquaint-  . 
ances 26 

CHAPTER  FIFTH. 

The  first  day  of  school.    Description  of  the  school  house,  of  pat- 
rons, and  of  scholars 33 

CHAPTER  SIXTH. 

The  Sunday  School.    Herbert  Ransom.    The  walk 55 

CHAPTER  SEVENTH. 

Trials  of  the  teacher.    Hope's  interest  In  her  work 64 

CHAPTER  EIGHTH. 

Hope's  visit  to  the  Stuarts.    The  ride.    Rodney  Gilbert.    A  peep 
behind  the  curtain.    Conversation  with  Rodney 69 

CHAPTER  NINTH. 

The  country  church.    Herbert  Ransom's  sermon 79 

CHAPTER  TENTH. 
School  and  school  life.    An  unexpected  discovery.    An  unlooked 

for  caller.    A  plea.sant  ride  and  chat 86 

CHAPTER  ELEVENTH. 

Little  Violet.    The  snow.     A  visitor 102 

CHAPTER  TWELFTH. 

The  Christmas  dinner.     Description  of  the  guests.     A  pleasant 
tete-a-tete.     "Too  Late."    Rodney's  Declaration.    The  parting.  112 

CHAPTER  THIRTEENTH. 

Visitors  at  the  school  house.    Hope's  popularity .-...  133 


VI  •  TABIiE  OF  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER  FOURTEENTH. 

Mrs.  Watkins'  conjectures.  Aruelia  Montcalm.  Description  of 
the  "old  maid's"  home 140 

CHAPTER  FIFTEENTH. 

Little  Violet's  illness.    Scene  in  the  sick  room 153 

CHAPTER  SIXTEENTH. 

"The  school  breaking."  Little  Violet's  death.  Rodney's  narra- 
tive of  his  past  life.     The  storm 158 

CHAPTER  SEVENTEENTH. 

Mrs.  Leonard's  visit  to  Mr.  Watkins'  home.  Conversation  about 
teaching.  Mrs.;;Leonard's  loyalty  to  her  husband.  "My  Fu- 
ture Home."     A  comic  courtship 176 

CHAPTER  EIGHTEENTH. 

More  visitors.  Miss  Rachel  Tyler's  opinion  of  people  in  general. 
Hope's  girl  friends.  A  lover  to  be  proud  of.  Parting  visit  of 
Herbert  Ransom 195 

CHAPTER  NINETEENTH. 

Amelia's  jealousy.  Her  conduct  towards  her  lover.  She  seals  her 
own  fate.     Rodney's  departure  to  the  West 211 

CHAPTER  TWENTIETH. 

Hope's  visit  to  Wilmington  on  her  homeward  route.  Her  reflec- 
tions. The  return  home  and  subsequent  events.  The  letter. 
Meeting  of  the  lovers.     The  betrothal 215 

CHAPTER  TWENTY-FIRST. 

Hope's  married  life.   Last  scene  and  conversation  "on  the  bridge." 

Then  and  Now." 222 

[the  end.] 


nrpi 


p;r  e  f  a  c  e  . 


In  writing  a  book  like  this,  which  we  now  propose  to  place  before 
the  public,  the  author  labors  under  peculiar  disadvantages.  The  time 
and  place  both  being  j^resent,  the  story  lacks  the  illusory  charm  of 
distance  ;  yet,  we  trust  that  this  lack  may  be  more  than  compensated 
by  the  reflection  that  the  scenes  and  characters  are  natural  and  home- 
like. In  the  comic,  as  well  as  in  the  bad  character  of  the  book,  we 
have  however,  strictly  avoided  personality.  They  may  all  be  consider- 
ered  as  representatives  of  certain  classes  of  i^ersons  rather  than  descrip- 
tions of  real  individuals.  Possibly,  many  teachers  can  recall  to  mem- 
ory a  Mrs.  Simmons,  in  the  person  of  some  hard  working,  illiterate, 
yet  ambitious  woman  ;  or  a  Miss  Rachel  Tyler — the  true  and  tried 
friend  of  the  ophan,  the  useful  "old  maid  aunt ;"  or  a  Mr.  Fogyman, 
the  stickler  for  past  customs;  or  a  Mr.  Liggins,  the  coarse,  common 
raised  drunkard  ;  or  a  Mr.  Leonard,  the  representative  of  a  large  class 
of  persons  who  contrive  to  worse  than  bury  splendid  talents,  and  shine 
only  to  mislead  ;  we  say  that  many  teachers  can  recall  just  such  peo- 
ple to  mind.  That  all  do  not  come  under  their  observation  during  one 
short  session  of  school,  or  in  one  neighborhood,  is  of  course  conceded. 
We  have  merely  brought  them  all  together  in  this  manner,  as  being  both 
more  convenient  and  more  effective.  In  these  days  of  Normal  Schools 
and  Teacher's  Institutes,  and  other  facilities,  to  aid  teachers  jn  their 
vocation,  it  would  be  a  work  of  supererogation,  not  to  say  i^resumptiou, 
in  us  to  offer  any  suggestion  in  regard  to  teaching.  We  have  in  our 
story  merely  described  a  youthful,  inexperienced  country  teacher,  who 
nevertherless,  from  natui'al  talent  for,  and  great  perseverence  in,  her 
calling,  might  have  been  considered  a  little  above  the  average  country 
teacher  eigJit  years  ago,  but  who  would  possibly  be  viewed  in  a  very 
diiferent  light  7ioiu.  In  this  manner  we  wish  to  show  the  improve- 
ment that  has  been  made  in  the  Old  North  State  during  the  last  eight 
years — the  difference  between  her  Then  and  her  Nov^''.  With  this  ex- 
planation, we  leave  ourpittle [[volume  in  the  hands  of  our  readers, 
trusting  that  it  will  receive  a  fair  and  impartial  perusal. 

ZILLAH  RAYMOND. 


THEN  AND  NOW; 

OR  hope's  first  school. 


CHAPTER  I. 


It  was  toward  the  close  of  a  sultry  day  in  August.  The 
sun  fell  with  a  fierce  glare,  but  little  tempered  by  the 
api^roach  of  evening  upon  the  tall  pines,  the  dusty  streets 
and  wooden  houses  of  the  little  village,  which  we  shall  call 
Tradeville.  We  choose  that  name  because  it  is  peculiarly 
appropriate,  there  being  no  busier  place  of  its  size  in  any 
locality.  Tradeville  is  in  the  southeastern  part  of  North 
Carolina,  and  is  situated  on  a  branch  of  the  Cape  Fear^  . 
near  the  head  of  navigation.  Its  aJgiTTTs  neither  a  beau- 
tiful nor  commanding  one,  being  no  more  than  a  sandy 
reach,  somewhat  elevated  above  the  level  of  the  river.  Two 
X^arallel  roads  divide  the  village.  Its  dwelling-houses  are 
principally  ranged  along  these  roads,  some  quite  near  and 
others  at  a  little  distance  from  them.  Besides  these^ 
Tradeville  contains  a  turpentine  distillery,  some  two  or 
three  workshops,  a  restaurant,  a  boarding-house,  a  steam 
saw-mill,  some  half  dozen  stores,  including  a  bar-room,  and 
at  no  great  distance  from  it  is  a  saw  and  grist  mill,  moved 
by  water-power.  The  site  of  a  church  is  still  visible  on 
the  outskirts  of  the  little  village  ;  its  fiery  fate  wrapped  in 
mystery,  though  circumstantial  evidence  was  so  strong  as 
to  induce  many  to  believe  that  they  almost  kneio  who  were 
the  authors  of  the  crime.  Be  that  as  it  may,  no  one  was 
ever  brought  to  punishment  for  it,  nor  was  the  church  ever 


A^jtL 


2  THEN   AND   NOW  ; 

rebuilt  in  the  same  place.    Tradeville  is,  therefore,  destitute 
of  a  house  of  worship,  one  a  mile  distant  answering  the 
purpose.     Near  the  site  of  the  old  one  is  the  cemetery,  its 
white  tomb-stones  gleaming  through  the  forest,  marking 
the  spot  where  lie  "  the  loved  and  lost,"     The  reader  can 
judge  from  this  description   that    this  village   does   not 
abound  in  natural  beauty,  yet  we  would  not  leave  them  to 
infer  that  it  is  an  unattractive  place.     There  is  such  an  air 
of  thrift  about  it ;  the  houses,  the  majority  of  which  are 
comparatively  new,  look  so  home-like  and  cheerful,  with 
their  spacious    yards,   blooming    Howers    and    evergreen 
hedges,  and  there  is  such  a  constant  tide  of  people  coming 
and^going,  as  to  give  the  stranger  quite  a  favorable  opinion 
of  the  place.     It^  roads,  or  streets,  whichever  one  prefers 
to  call  them,  are  in  dry  weather  extremely  dusty,  and  carts 
and  wagons,  bearing  the  inevitable  loads  of  tar  or  turpen^ 
tine,  may  be  daily  seen  wending  their  slow  Avay  to  the  stores 
near  the  river,  their  contents  to  be  shipped  thence  on  flats 
or  on  the  little  steamer  to  the  nearest  port,  some  forty  miles 
away.     The  river  near  the  landing  is  spanned  by  a  bridge, 
the  centre  of  it  forming  a  draw-bridge,  for  the  convenience 
of  fiats  coming  from  the  upper  part  of   the  river.     This 
bridge  is  to  us  the  sweetest  spot  in  Tradeville.     It  is  very 
pleasant  on  the  afternoon  of  a  sultry  day  to  stand  there 
and  gaze  on  the  dark,  cool  waters,  skimmed  by  birds  and 
insects,  and  reflecting  in  their  depths  the  azure  sky,  the 
rosy  clouds  and  moss-draped  trees.     One  can  see  the  little 
boats,  lying  idle  in  sheltered  coves,  or  gliding  over  the 
water  as  they  are  rowed  by  skilled  hands,  and  on  the  shore, 
at  a  little  distance  off,  people  pursuing  their  various  avoca- 
tions, some  weighing  turpentine,  others  coming  in  or  going 
oat  of  town,  in  vehicles  of  various  descriptions,  and  not  a 
few  loafing  around,  talking  politics  and  imbibing  freely  of 
the  nectar  sold  at  the  bar-room- nectar,  though,  scarcely 
"fit  for  the  gods."     On  the  air  falls  the  hum  of  machinery, 
and  at  stated  times  the  shrill  whistle  of  the  steam  mill,  or 
the  blow  of  the  steamer  as  it  nears  its  landing.     There  is  a 


OR  hope's  first  school.  8 

subtle  cliarni  about  running  water,  whether  it  be  the  dash- 
ing mountain  stream,  or  the  more  sluggish  one  of  the  low- 
lands, and  possibly  Hope  Caldwell  felt  the  truth  of  this, 
for  she  loved  to  stand  upon  this  bridge  and  gaze  dreamily- 
down  on  the  dark  river  beneath,  as  though  fascinated  by 
its  eternal  flow.  There  it  was  that  we  first  saw  her  eight 
years  ago,  and  at  first  sight  we  took  so  deep  an  interest  in 
her  as  tojnquire  into  her  past  history  ;  and  since  then  we 
have  followed  \x\)  her  subsequent  career,  and  we  intend  to 
give  botJi  to  our  readers.  But  first  we  will  attempt  to 
describe  her  personal  apj)earance,  though  any  description 
of  ours  will  be  utterly  inadequate  to  convey  a  just  imx)res- 
sion  of  the  singular  and  indefinable  charm  which  at  times 
was  here.  Picture  to  yourself  a  slight,  elegant  figure,  a 
little  under  the  medium  height  of  women,  surmounted  by 
a  perfectly  shaped  head,  covered  with  lustrous,  silken  black 
hair — the  face,  so  far  as  features  are  concerned,  beyond 
criticism — pearly  teeth,  a  lovely  mouth,  a  perfect  nose  and 
chin,  luminous  dark  eyes  and  silken  lashes — yet,  withal, 
lacking  color  and  plumpness — those  two  great  additions  to 
the  most  exquisite  face  and  form.  Her  comjjlexion  was 
generall/'  destitute  of  the  rosy  tint,  so  beautiful  in  youth, 
and  she  was  very  thin,  though  graceful  as  a  fairy.  Add  to 
these  detractions  from  her  loveliness,  viz :  thinness  and 
pallor,  that  her  expression  betokened  earnest  thought 
rather  than  gayety  or  sioeetness,  and  the  reader  need  not 
be  surprised  that  people  did  not  usually  consider  Hope  a 
beauty,  though  we  were  captivated  b}'-  her  loolcs,  even 
before  we  formed  her  acquaintance.  On  the  August  evening 
when  we  first  met  her,  she  left  the  bridge  immediately  after 
the  arrival  of  the  weekly  mail,  which  was  brought  to  the 
village  from  the  city,  some  twentj^^  miles  distant  overland, 
by  a  man  who  drove  a  wretched  looking  horse.  The  j)Ost- 
ofiice  was  kept  in  a  store,  and  thither  Hope  rexDaired  to 
inquire  for  the  mail.  It  took  sometime  for  the  postmaster 
to  overlook  the  budget  taken  from  the  leathern  mail-bag, 
but  when  it  was  all  sorted  out,  he  handed  her  two  letters 


4  THEN   AND   NOW  ; 

and  a  magazine.  With  these  in  hand,  she  walked  rapidly 
homeward.  The  house  which  she  called  home  was  a  com- 
mon, unpainted,  rather  dilapidated-looking  one,  with 
nothing  to  please  the  eye  nor  gratify  the  taste  in  its  exterior 
appearance.  Even  the  few  flowers,  which  the  most  assidu- 
ous care  had  provoked  into  growing  on  the  sandy  soil, 
served  rather  to  evoke  the  sigh  of  i^ity  than  to  give  delight 
to  the  beholder.  ISTor  were  the  inner  appointments  of  the 
house  one  whit  more  pleasing.  The  old,  worn  furniture, 
which,  patch  and  darn  as  one  might,  would  still  look  old 
and  worn—the  little  ornaments,  wrought  by  female  fingers 
out  of  the  merest  trifles,  the  few,  faded  pictures,  the  anti- 
quated volumes  in  the  old-fashioned  book-case,  and  the 
vases,  with  their  bouquets  of  wild  flowers,  were  all  true 
indexes,  both  to  the  character  and  circumstances  of  the 
inmates  of  the  dwelling.  All  betokened  refinement  and 
taste,  yet  at  the  same  time  suggested  extreme  poverty. 
Hope's  mother  was  sitting  on  the  piazza  sewing  as  our 
heroine  entered  the  gate.  Mrs.  Caldwell  was  a  mild, 
patient-looking  lad}^,  with  dark  ej^es  and  hair,  whose  whole 
api)earance  indicated  that  she  had  seen  deep  sorrow,  but 
had  struggled  to  bear  her  burden  uncomplainingly,  and  had 
learned  to  be  resigned  to  the  will  of  the  Heavenly  Father. 
Hope  kissed  her  good  evening,  then  sat  down  near  her  to 
read  her  letters,  handing  her  mother  the  magazine  as  she 
did  so.  Her  countenance  passed  through  quite  a  variety 
of  changes  as  she  i^erused  the  first  one.  It  was  difficult  to 
tell  which  expression  was  uppermost,  whether  that  of 
surprise,  joy  or  perplexity.  Yet  there  was  nothing  extra- 
ordinary in  the  letter.  It  was  simply  an  apjilication  for 
her  services  as  a  teacher.  It  was  written  by  an  old 
acquaintance  of  her  father,  who  was  authorized  by  a  com- 
mittee to  offer  her  a  certain  salary  to  take  charge  of  the 
school  in  their  neighborhood.  The  sum  offered  was  mode- 
rate, yet  to  Hope,  who  was  very  poor,  and  who  had  never 
earned  five  dollars  in  her  life,    the  terms   seemed  quite 


OR   HOPE  S    FIRST   SCHOOL.  D 

liberal.  After  reading,  she  silently  handed  the  letter  to  her 
mother.  The  latter  perused  it  carefully,  and  when  she  bad 
finished  it  inquired:  "Have  you  any  idea  of  accepting 
this  offer,  Hope?"  "That  depends  upon  two  circum- 
stances, mother.  In  the  first  place,  I  must  have  your  free 
consent  to  it ;  in  the  next,  if  I  leave,  you  will  have  to  have 
some  trusty  person  to  stay  with  you — some  one  wdio  is 
anxious  for  a  home,  and  who  will  he  a  companion  for  you 
for  a  small  consideration.  But  whom  can  you  get  V  The 
second  letter  she  read  that  evening  contained  a  solution  of 
the  problem.  It  was  from  Mr.  Caldwell's  first  cousin,  an 
orphan  girl,  named  Mary  Caldwell,  who  was,  she  wrote, 
"without  a  home,  and  wished  to  stay  at  Mrs.  Caldwell's, 
She  was  willing  to  work,  but  disliked  the  idea  of  hiring 
herself  out,  and  would  gladly  do  as  much  work  for  less 
wages,  if  saved  the  humiliation  of  being  considered  a 
servant.  Hope  and  her  mother  were  well  acquainted  with 
her,  and  liked  her  very  much.  "If  you  are  willing  for  me 
to  leave  tJiis  settles  the  question  of  a  comjyanion^''''  said 
Hope.  "You  can  eniploj^  Mary,  giving  her  her  board  and 
a  small  salary,  and  as  there  is  so  little  housekeej)ing  to  do 
here,  she  can  take  in  sewing  and  make  a  nice  living,  and 
besides,  she  can  help  me  with  my  wardrobe  before  I  go 
away.  It  really  seems  providential  that  we  heard  from  her 
just  now."  Hope's  mother,  having  given  her  consent  to 
this  arrangement,  the  daughter  wrote  to  Mary  at  once, 
urging  her  to  come  on,  and  to  come  immediately.  To  Mr. 
Watkins,  the  gentleman  who  had  written  to  her  in  regard 
to  the  school,  she  returned  an  answer  accepting  the  situa 
tion.  There  were  no  references  given  and  none  required  on 
either  side,  as  Hope's  father  had  been  an  intimate  acquaint- 
ance of  Mr,  Watkins,  though  fully  ten  years  had  elax^sed 
since  any  of  the  family  had  heard  from  him,  and  how  he 
came  to  know  much  about  her  since  her  childhood,  or  aught 
about  her  place  of  abode,  was  a  matter  only  for  conjecture. 
Hope  did  not  remember  him,  as  she  had  never  seen  him 


6  THEN    AND    NOW  ; 

since  her  recollection.  Her  injunction  to  Mary  Caldwell 
"to  come  on  at  once"  was  so  literally  complied  with,  and 
so  industriously  did  they  all  bestir  themselves  after  she 
came,  that  in  ten  days  from  the  August  evening  when  we 
first  met  Hope  Caldwell  she  was  in  perfect  readiness  to 
leave  home  and  take  her  school.  No  one  would  have 
guessed  what  an  amount  of  work  it  took  to  remodel  old 
dresses  and  make  them  look  like  new,  to  fix  over  old  hats 
into  a  fashionable  shaj^e,  and  trim  them  prettily  with 
inexpensive  materials,  to  darn  up  old  laces  and  make  dainty 
ties  of  them,  to  model  new  collars  out  of  the  merest  scraps 
of  linen,  to  turn  antiquated  white  dresses  into  coquettish- 
looking  aprons,  whose  every  darn  was  concealed  by  some 
extra  trimming  or  a  bow  of  ribbon  ;  no  one,  we  say,  would 
have  guessed  the  amount  of  work  expended  on  Hope's 
wardrobe  during  the  week  of  preparation  for  her  trip. 
One  new  dress  and  some  new  trimming  for  her  best  hat  was 
all  she  could  afford  to  p>urcliase  just  now.  For  the  rest,  a 
graceful  form  and  a  tasteful  arrangement  of  what  attire 
she  possessed,  must  supply  every  deficiency.  Her  mother 
had  a  few  articles  of  jew^elry,  which  had  long  been  in  her 
family,  and  from  which  not  even  poverty  had  forced  her  to 
part,  and  these  she  now,  for  the  first  time,  placed  in  Hope's 
temporary  possession.  And  really,  our  heroine  had  no 
misgivings  in  regard  to  her  ap];)earance,  nor  to  the  impression 
that  she  would  make  on  strangers,  as  she  stood  before  the 
mirror,  in  the  cheap  but  exquisitely  lifting  travelling  dress 
which  she  was  to  wear  on  her  trip.  Before  she  leaves, 
liowever,  we  will  give  our  readers  a  brief  sketch  of  herimst 
life,  which  will  the  better  prepare  them  to  appreciate  her 
future  career. 


OR   HOPE  .S    FIRST   SCHOOL. 


CHAPTER  II. 


Hope  CaldwelTs  childhood  was  passed  amid  scenes  very 
unlike  those  amid  which  we  first  beheld  her.  Her  father — 
a  prosperous  merchant — spared  no  pains  in  renderin.s;  his 
home  not  only  comfortable,  but  elegant,  and  she  was 
during  her  early  years  accustomed  to  every  luxury.  But 
his  tenderness  for  his  only  child  was  not  allowed  to  inter- 
fere with  the  discipline  which  he  deemed  necessary  to  her 
future  welfare,  and  the  intellectual  tasks  which  she  was 
required  to  perform,  though  not  quite  beyond  her  reach, 
were  alwa3^s  sufficiently  hard  to  render  severe  effort  neces- 
sary to  accomplish  them.  Naturally  studious  and  ambi- 
tious, Hope  scarcely  deemed  this  a  hardship,  and  when  not 
over  fourteen  years  old  she  was  first  in  all  her  classes  at 
school,  bearing  away  prizes  from  those  much  older  than 
herself.  From  the  Academy  near  her  home  she  was  sent 
to  a  noted  institution  in  another  State,  where- her  talent 
and  industry  promised  her  a  high  position  among  her 
schoolmates.  Unfortunately  for  her,  before  she  had  been 
there  many  months  her  father  failed  in  business  and  was 
unable  to  continue  her  at  school  after  the  present  session 
was  out.  Indeed,  his  reduced  circumstances  did  not  Justify 
him  in  giving  her  any  advantages  whatever.  This  was  a 
bitter  disai)pointment  to  her,  but  she  bore  up  bravely 
under  it.  She  continued  her  studies  as  best  she  could  at 
home,  devoting  herself  especially  to  drawing,  which  was 
her  favoiite  study,  and  for  which  she  had  more  than  ordi- 
nary talent.  But  studying  without  a  teacher  was  very 
unlike  the  routine  of  the  schoolroom,  and  Hope  felt  the 
difference.  She  missed,  too,  the  luxuries  to  which  she  had 
been  accustomed  from  infancy,  and  altogether  her  life  was 
sadly  changed  from  what  it  had  once  been.  It  was  about 
two  years  after  her  father's  failure  in  business,  and  while 


8  THE]^   AND   NOTV  : 


slie  was  still  struggling  on  in  this  unsatisfactory  manner, 
that  Eobert  St.  George  first  became  acquainted  with  her. 
He  was  young,  well-bred  and  handsome,  and  in  a  very 
short  time  after  their  first  introduction  he  began  to  pay  her 
marked  attention,  and  finally  addressed  her.  In  an  evil 
hour  Hope  listened  to  his  vows  of  unchanging  affection, 
and  gave  her  heart  to  the  charming  stranger.  In  after 
years  he  would  have  never  been  her  choice,  but  now,  in  her 
young  girlhood,  he  seemed  to  her  perfection.  For  a  time 
she  forgot  ambition,  forgot  poverty,  forgot  her  studies, 
ceased  to  remember  everything  except  the  blissful  reflec- 
tion that  she  loved  Robert  and  was  beloved  by  him.  For 
six  months  she  dwelt  in  a  fool's  Paradise,  she  lived  for  her 
lover,  thought,  dreamed  and  planned  for  him  alone.  They 
were  betrothed  in  the  winter,  but  did  not  expect  to  marry 
within  a  year  after.  At  the  expiration  of  the  spring  after 
their  betrothal,  Hope  received  a  letter  from  one  of  lier 
schoolmates,  announcing  her  intention  of  spending  the 
summer  at  Mr.  Caldwell's.  Had  her  father  been  in  pros- 
perous circumstances  our  heroine  would  have  hailed  these 
tidings  with  unalloyed  i^leasure.  But  in  the  present 
straitened  condition  of  his  affairs  it  must  be  owned  that 
the  whole  family  would  have  been  better  pleased  at  the 
absence  of  their  exi)ected  guest  than  they  were  with  the 
anticipation  of  her  coming.  Still  there  was  nothing  left 
for  Hope  to  do  except  to  urge  her  to  pay  the  intended 
visit.  Amelia  Montcalm,  for  that  was  her  name,  had  been 
someAvhat  of  a  favorite  with  Hope  at  school.  She  was 
beautiful,  stylish  and  fascinating,  and  apjoarently  a  warm 
friend  of  our  heroine's.  Her  parents  were  wealthy,  and 
she  had  had  many  advantages.  As,  radiant  with  smiles, 
she  alighted  from  the  vehicle  in  which  she  had  come  from 
the  depot,  on  the  evening  of  her  arrival  at  Mr.  Caldwell's, 
she  was,  indeed,  a  vision  of  rare  loveliness,  more  beautiful 
than  ever,  it  seemed  to  her  friend.  Hope's  parents  were 
charmed  with  her,  and  wplcomed  her,  with   frank  hospi- 


OR  hope's  first  siicool.  9 

tality,  to  their  home.  Much  care  and  pains  had  been 
bestowed  upon  their  present  humble  residence  to  make  it 
as  pleasant  as  possible  during  her  sojourn  with  them.  Mrs. 
Caldwell  and  her  daughter  had  worked  hard  to  accomplish 
this  object,  and  Mr.  Caldwell  had  almost  exhausted  his 
slender  resources  in  procuring  little  additional  comforts  for 
their  guest.  Yet  a  bitter  pang  of  disappointment  struck 
Amelia  as  she  surveyed  the  home  of  her  friend,  with  its 
humble  appointments.  She  had  imagined  Mr.  Caldwell 
very  wealthy,  and  had  anticipated  having  a  gay  time 
during  the  summer  at  some  grand  old  country  mansion. 
Great,  indeed,  was  her  chagrin  at  finding  everything  so 
different  from  what  she  had  pictured  it.  Hope,  in  her 
frank  way,  told  her  of  the  change  in  Mr.  Caldwell's 
fortune,  and  Amelia's  apparent  sympathy  with  her,  and 
her  show  of  delight  at  all  of  her  surroundings,  endeared 
her  more  than  ever  to  the  heart  of  her  friend.  Yet,  in  her 
own  mind,  even  now,  the  selfish  girl  was  planning  some 
excuse  to  shorten  her  visit.  Before  she  could  invent  any 
plausible  one,  however,  Mr.  St.  George  called  upon  Hopej 
and  x^melia  was  introduced  to  him.  Her  acquaintance 
with  liini  put  an  end  to  her  thoughts  of  a  speedy  depar- 
ture. She  rather  fancied  Robert's  looks  and  manner,  and 
as  she  was  an  accomplished  coquette,  she  thought  it 
probable  that  she  could  make  a  conquest  of  him.  Slie  saw 
at  a  glance  that  he  and  her  friend  were  lovers — were  possi- 
bly betrothed — but  this,  so  far  from  being  an  obstacle  in 
her  path,  rather  gave  a  zest  to  her  little  sport,  for  she  was 
never  better  pleased  than  when  she  could  win  a  young  man 
away  from  another  girl.  She  felt  a  little  spiteful  at  Hoj)e 
for  finding  her  poorer  than  she  had  anticipated,  and  it 
seemed  to  her  but  fair  to  avenge  herself  by  winning  the 
affections  of  Robert.  But  this  she  found  a  more  difficult 
matter  than  she  had  at  first  imagined.  Hope  Caldwell's 
presence,  the  sweetness  of  her  manners,  her  splendid  intel- 


10  THEN   AND   NOW 


5 


lect,  and  the  childish  innocence  of  her  disposition,  would 
seem  sufficient  to  have  saved  her  from  the  mortification  of 
seeing  any  other  woman  usurj)  her  place  in  her  lovers 
aifections.  Under  ordinary  circumstances  they  would,  but 
Amelia-was  fascinating  to  the  last  degree.  Beautiful  as  a 
Peri,  with  a  voice  as  sweet  as  a  nightingale's,  and  pos- 
sessed, too,  in  no  common  degree,  of  those  bewitching  ways 
which  charm  the  hearts  of  men  even  more  than  beauty,  few, 
indeed,  could  stay  in  her  presence  long  and  come  away 
free  from  her  chains.  This  was  more  especially  the  case 
with  very  young  men.  Robert  St.  George  she  found  more 
intractable  than  her  victims  generally  proved.  For  awhile 
he  seemed  steeled  to  all  of  her  fascinations.  But  this  only 
made  her  more  determined  to  enslave  him.  She  wished  to 
have  him  bound,  as  it  were,  to  her  chariot  wheels,  a  help- 
less captive.  When  she  found  that  ordinary  means  failed 
to  effect  this  purpose,  she  did  not  scruple  to  feign  herself 
desperately,  hopelessly  in  love  with  him.  Not  in  so  many 
words,  of  course,  but  by  a  thousand  nameless  evidences— 
the  tender  glances,  the  double  meaning  that  she  gave  to  the 
love  songs  which  she  sang,  to  the  poetry  which  she  recited, 
to  the  most  trifling  words  that  she  spoke,  her  blushes  and 
smiles — ah !  who  could  resist  them  'I  Robert  did  resist 
them  all  for  a  long  wliile,  but  at  last  he  could  withstand  no 
more.  He  drifted  away  from  truth,  honor  and  from  the 
girl  whom  he  had  once  fondly  loved.  Innocent  as  Hope 
was,  she  was  not  so  destitute  of  discernment  as  not  to  see 
the  true  state  of  affairs  at  once.  When  Robert  became  so 
absorbed  in  Amelia's  conversation  as  almost  to  forget  Tier 
presence,  when  he  listened  to  Amelia's  voice  as  though  it 
was  an  angel's,  and  gazed  upon  her  face  with  all  a  lover's 
tenderness,  could  Hope  .be  so  blind  as  not  to  notice  it,  so 
destitute  of  womanly  feeling,  as  not  to  groan  in  the  very 
depths  of  her  heart  that  she  had  lost  the  first  love  of  her 
life?     She  was  neither  blind   nor  unfeeling,   but  she  was 


OR  hope's  first  school.  11 

proud  to  her  heart's  core — too  proud  to  avert,  even  had  it 
been  in  her  power  to  do  so,  the  dreaded  blow  which  was  to 
destroy  the  happiness  of  her  young  life.  Not  by  word  or 
look  would  she  seek  to  win  her  lover  back  to  his  allegiance 
to  her.  She  gave  him  his  freedom  unfalteringly,  heeded 
not  his  feeble  apology  for  his  conduct,  but,  shutting  up  her 
grief  in  her  own  heart,  endeavored  to  seem  her  natural  self, 
the  more  so  that  she  felt  that  Amelia  would  triumph  in  any 
exhibition  of  weakness  on  her  part.  Suffer  as  she  might 
she  would  suffer  in  secret ;  the  world  should  not  be  the 
wiser  for  it.  From  that  terrible  summer  a  blight  tell  over 
the  life  of  our  heroine.  She  had  realized  the  falsity  of 
friend  and  lover;  she  had  made  "idols  and  found  them 
clay,"  and  with  her  confidence  in  them  had  fled  her  trust 
in  all  earthly  beings,  save  her  own  dear  parents.  The 
world  was  no  longer  the  rosy-hued  one  of  the  past,  but  a 
dreary  abode,  overshadowed  by  leaden  clouds,  where  one 
must  of  necessity  live,  but  must  live  without  hope  or  com- 
fort. We  have  said  that  she  had  a  talent  for  drawing. 
Under  some  circumstances  it  might  have  proved  a  source 
of  profit,  as  well  as  of  pleasure  to  her,  but  now  it  served 
only  to  help  banish  thoughts  of  the  past  from  her  mind. 
Her  chief  aim'/zozo  was  to  procure  oblivion  of  that  episode 
in  her  life,  whose  memory  she  hated  above  all  others.  But 
to  forget  Eobert  and  Amelia— his  fickleness  and  her  falsity — 
would  be  well  worth  the  expenditure  of  much  time  and 
trouble.  To  this  end  she  worked  harder  than  she  had  ever 
done  before,  devoting  every  moment  that  she  could  spare 
from  her  household  duties  to  her  favorite  study.  And 
constant  employment  had  the  effect  of  deadening  the  pain 
of  reflection,  of  causing  the  bitter  memories  of  the  past  to 
wax  fainter  and  fainter.  By  degrees  she  resumed  some  of 
her  former  cheerfulness.  She  was  not  quite  the  same — who 
could  be  under  such  circumstances  ?— but  she  was  neither 
despairing  nor   melancholy.     Yet  the  child-like  trust  of 


12  THEN    AND   NOAV  ; 

earh^  youth  had  tied.  She  grew  cold  and  reserved,  and 
utterly  indifferent  to  the  society  of  the  other  sex.  Ambi- 
tion took  the  place  of  love  in  her  heart.  She  planned  off 
her  future  as  a  successful  artist,  winning  both  fame  and 
fortune  by  her  talent — wedded  to  her  art,  and  indifferent 
to  all  else  save  that  and  the  hax^piness  of  her  father  and 
mother.  What  bright  air-castles  she  built,  what  gorgeous 
dreams  of  the  future  filled  all  her  mental  vision !  A 
practical  person  could  easily  have  foreseen  the  end  of  all 
this,  could  have  easily  told  that  ambition  in  this  direction, 
and  under  the  disadvantages  which  *  surrounded  Hope, 
would  only  end  in  disappointment — would  only  prove  a 
will-'o-the-wisp,  leading  her  astray  from  the  practical 
duties  of  life.  In  future  years  she  might  realize  this,  in 
afterlife  might  realize  that  her  one  talent  had  proved  rather 
a  curse  than  a  blessing  to  her,  and  she  might  then  bitterly 
regret  the  loss  of  much  precious  time  that  might  have  been 
better  spent.  But  not  now  could  she  feel  thus.  For  days, 
weeks  and  months  she  lived  an  ideal  life,  working  hard, 
yet  as  one  in  a  dream.  A  rude  shock  from  the  real,  prac- 
tical world,  recalled  her  to  herself  and  to  misery  again. 
Her  father  was  taken  very  ill,  and  after  one  week  of 
suffering  died,  leaving  her  mother  and  herself  to  bear,  not 
onl}^  the  anguish  of  bereavement,  but  the  hardships  of 
poverty.  A  house  and  lot  in  Tradeville,  the  same  which 
we  have  already  described,  and  a  life  insurance  j)olicy  for 
just  a  sufficient  sum  to  keep  them  above  actual  want,  was 
their  all.  So  the  years  had  gone  by,  bringing  with  them  no 
new  misfortunes  and  no  new  pleasures.  Hope  saw  those 
inferior  in  natural  endowments  to  herself  living  in  comfort 
and  luxury,  and  sometimes  she  rebelled  bitterly,  but 
secretly,  against  her  lot.  "  Why,"  thought  she,  in  anguish 
of  spirit,  ''should  other  girls,  in  nowise  my  superiors, 
enjoy  their  lives,  be  fortunate  in  all  their  plans,  while  every 
aim  of  my  life  has  been  thwarted  ?    I  believe  an  unlucky 


OR  hope's  first  school.  13 

star  presides  over  ray  destiny."  Had  slie  been  more 
tbonglitful  she  would  have  perceived  that  she  in  part 
governed  her  own  destiny,  as  does  every  one.  Her  reserve' 
her  exclnsiveness,  and  the  singularity  of  her  disposition, 
tended  to  repel  those  who  might  otherwise  have  admired 
and  loved  her.  But  for  a  long  time  she  was  unconscious  of 
this.  Out  of  her  studj^  hours  she  took  recreation  by  long 
strolls,  sometimes  accompanied  by  her  mother,  at  others  by 
a  little  child  of  one  of  the  neighbors,  and  at  rare  intervals 
she  went  visiting  or  to  church.  In  her  walks  she  studied 
nature  in  all  of  its  varied  phases,  and  enriched  her  cabinet 
and  herbarium  by  many  a  gathered  treasure.  Of  course 
this  kind  of  a  life  had  the  effect  of  rendering  her  entirely 
diiferent  from  other  young  ladies.  She  knew  less  of  the 
world,  less  of  gossip  and  more  of  the  lore  of  the  past,  and 
though  not  happy,  she  was  at  least  free  from  those  tumul- 
tuous emotions  which  agitate  the  bosoms  of  many  who 
mingle  freely  in  society.  Still,  with  one  so  young,  a  life 
like  this  was  not  likely  to  last.  So  long  as  she  was  sanguine 
of  success  in  the  future,  Hope  could  content  herself  with 
this  hermit-like  seclusion  ;  but  when,  after  the  lapse  of  five 
years  from  the  time  when  she  had  left  school,  she  had 
never,  in  a  single  one  of  her  sketches,  attained  to  her 
ideal  of  perfection,  she  began  to  lose  lieart.  Forms  of 
beauty  flitted  before  her  eyes,  wanting  but  the  labor  of  her 
hand  to  embody  them,  yet  ever  did  the  attempt  prove 
delusive.  She  lacked  oiDi^ortunity  ;  unaided  talent  seldom 
accomplishes  any  great  result ;  the  best  of  artists  have 
generally  been  assisted  and  instructed  in  their  art.  Hope 
was  no  genius,  but  she  possessed  talent  enough  to  fill  her 
whole  soul  with  yearnings  after  the  perfect,  and  to  cause 
others  to  admire  the  paintings  and  drawings  whose  deficien- 
cies she  bemoaned  to  herself.  After  working  hard  for 
several  hours  one  day  on  a  sketch,  without  succeeding  as 
she  wished,    she    threw   down    her    pencil    for   the  time 


14  THEN   AND   NOW  ; 

completely  discouraged.     "Would  to  Heaven,"  she  solilo- 
quized, "that  I  had  not  been  cursed  with  this  fatal  gift; 
would  that  I  had  been  a  good  seamstress,  or  housekeeper, 
or  had  loved  some  XDractical   duty,    instead  of  being  so 
passionately  devoted  to  what  seems  destined  to  allure  me 
on  to  wretchedness  !"     For  a  short  time  after  this  she  gave 
herself  exclusively  to  household  duties  ;  she  cooked,  milked, 
churned  and  sewed,  and,  as  she  confessed  to  her  mother, 
she  really  felt  better  contented.     She  began,  too,  to  visit  a 
little  oftener,  and  thus  learned  to  form  a  different  estimate 
of   others.      She   found  herself    striving   to  interest  and 
please  others,  and  was  not  only  successful  in  her  object, 
but  found  that  the  eifort  gave  her  real  pleasure.     People 
were  glad  to  have  her  visit  them,  the  more  so  that  she  had 
heretofore  been  a  little  exclusive.     An  occasional  gleam  of 
mirth  beautified  her  face  wonderfully,  and  many  persons 
remarked  on  her  loveliness  who  had  hitherto  not  regarded 
her  as  pretty.     It  was  at  this  period  of  her  life,  when  she 
was  about  twenty-one  years  old,  that  she   received   Mr. 
Watkins'  letter.     Strange  to  say,  it  had  never  occurred  to 
Hope  that  she  could  teach,  and  thus  earn  her  own  money. 
Her  time  had  been  so  absorbed  in  her  favorite  pursuit  that 
this  idea  had  not  once  suggested  itself  to  her  mind.     But 
Mr.  Watkins'  letter  was  like  a  revelation  to  her.     She  could 
teach  and  earn  money,  she  could  make  herself  useful,  she 
could  go  among  different  scenes  and  among  different  people; 
she   would   strive   to  render  herself  just  as  i^leasant  as 
possible,    and   she   would  succeed.     She  could  buy   new 
books  and  new  furniture,  she  could  add  to' her  mother's 
comfort,  and  possibly  in  a  year  or  two  she  could  make 
money  enough  to  send  herself  to  school  one  session  more, 
where  she  could  take  drawing  lessons  again,  under  a  good 
master,  and  as  time  elapsed  she  w^ould  realize  all  of  those 
longings  after  fame  and  fortune  which  had  long  been  hers. 
She  saw  herself  in  the  near  future  a  successful  artist,  not 


OR  hope's  first  school.  15 

only  renowned,  but  in  i^rosperous  circumstances,  liappy  in 
gratified  ambition  and  in  the  society  of  her  beloved  mother. 
All  of  these  delightful  visions  passed  rapidly  through  her 
mind  after  the  reception  of  Mr.  Watkins'  letter.  It  was 
the  "open  sesame  "  to  a  region  of  enchantment.  A  slender 
foundation,  it  would  appear  to  others,  on  which  to  base 
such  sanguine  expectations,  but  it  must  be  remembered 
that  Hope  was  young  and  a  stranger  to  worldly  wisdom. 
She  did  not  look  on  the  difficulties  in  her  path  Just  now  ; 
she  thought  only  of  the  pleasure  which  even  a  small  addi- 
tion to  her  very  limited  means  would  afford  her.  She  was 
in  such  high  spirits,  as  she  reflected  upon  it,  that  her 
mother  mildly  rebuked  her  for  her  gayety  : 

"I  believe  you  like  the  idea  of  leaving  home,  Hope,  and 
of  bidding  me  adieu." 

"No,  no,  mother,"  she  exclaimed,  impulsively,  flinging 
her  arms  about  her  mother's  neck,  "but  I  have  suffered 
in  my  past  life,  God  only  knows  hoto  mucli^  and  I  am  glad 
to  change  it." 

Mrs.  Caldwell  kissed  her  again  and  again.  "Poor  Hope," 
she  said,  "  I  did  not  dream  that  you  were  so  discontented. 
I  thought  you  comparatively  hax^py  in  the  midst  of  your 
quiet  enip)loyments." 

"  I  did  try  to  be,  but  Oh,  mother,  it  was  so  hard  to  bear 
it  all  resignedly."  She  burst  into  a  flood  of  tears — the  first 
that  she  had  shed  in  her  mother's  presence  since  her  return- 
from  her  father's  funeral. 

Mrs.  Caldwell  soothed  her  with  gentle  caresses  and  with 
words  of  holy  cheer,  and  she  soon  had  the  satisfaction  of 
seeing  her  not  wildly  gay,  but  with  a  contented  smile 
resting  on  her  countenance.  And  during  the  remainder  of 
her  stay  at  home  she  appeared  contented  and  happy. 


16  THEN   AND    NOW 


CHAPTER  III. 


It  was  the  night  before  Hope's  departure  from  home  to 
take  charge  of  her  school.  Her  preparations  for  her 
journey  were  all  complete,  her  trunk  packed  and  a  way 
engaged  to  convey  her  to  the  depot  early  on  the  morrow. 
She  expected  to  take  the  train  there  and  to  proceed  on  her 
journey  alone.  Mrs.  Caldwell  and  Mary,  who  were  much 
fatigued,  retired  at  an  early  hour,  but  Hope  was  too  sad 
and  excited  to  fall  asleep  at  once.  She  sat  at  her  window 
and  looked  out  on  the  glories  of  the  summer  night,  but 
beheld  them  with  gloom}^,  discontented  feelings.  Never 
had  she  before  realized  what  a  charm  invests  even  the 
humblest  home.  Just  as  she  was  about  to  leave  hers  it 
suddenly  became  the  dearest  i^lace  on  earth  to  her.  The 
old,  shabby  furniture,  the  sickly  flowers,  the  antiquated 
volumes  in  the  old-fashioned  book- case,  the  faded-out 
pictures  around  the  room,  the  tabby  cat,  the  cow  that  she 
milked  every  night  and  morning,  the  lofty  pines  in  sight  of 
her  home — all  the  little  mementoes  of  other  and  happier 
daj^s— now  seemed  to  her  as  so  many  friends,  to  whom  she 
Avas  bidding  adieu,  perhaps  for  the  last  time.  Yet  what 
were  these  to  the  society  of  that  dear  mother,  whose  tender 
care  had  been  hers  all  of  her  life  ?  For  a  brief  while  she 
almost  blamed  herself  for  ever  even  thinking  of  SQ'p^v^img 
from  her  mother.  But  this  regret  was  but  momentar3\ 
Would  not  her  mother  as  well  as  herself  be  benefited  by 
their  brief  absence  from  each  other  I  Could  she  not  secure 
some  comforts  to  her  by  the  sacrifice  ?  And  of  what  avail 
would  regret  now  be  ?  No  !  come  what  might,  her  resolve 
was  taken,  and  she  would  not  swerve  from  it.  "No  such 
word  as  fail,"  she  murmurred  to  herself;  but  even  as  she 
spoke  the  sound  of  music  was  wafted  to  her  ears,  and  sweet 


OE  hope's  first  school.  17 

as  was  the  sound,  it  served,  jnst  now,  to  toucli  a  discordant 
chord  in  her  natnre.  She  knew  the  performers  well.  They 
were  a  young  gentleman  and  lady,  supposed  to  be  lovers, 
who  were  playing  the  violin  and  piano  in  unison.  The 
thought  of  their  happiness,  though  no  mean  envy  nestled 
in  lier  heart,  seemed  to  intensify  her  gloomy  feelings  by 
sheer  force  of  contrast.  Other  girls,  not  more  richly 
endowed  by  nature  than  herself,  were  blessed,  having 
pleasant  homes  and  some  one  to  love  and  care  for  them, 
while  she  was  poor  and  unnoticed,  having  no  one,  save  her 
mother,  to  take  any  interest  in  her.  She  leaned  her  head 
down  on  the  casement  and  wept  bitterly.  Tears  relieved 
the  burden  at  her  heart,  but  she  reproached  herself  for 
being  so  foolish  : 

"  I  am  getting  really  envious,"  she  exclaimed  to  herself. 
''I  must  not  give  up,  but  endeavor  to  conquer  such 
feelings,  or  my  disposition  will  be  utterly  ruined.  I  will 
not  give  up  to  gloom  and  discontent.  I  will  look  on  the 
bright  side  of  life,  come  what  may." 

She  listened  to  the  music  until  a  late  hour— listened  with 
rather  softened  feelings — yet  was  still  far,  very  far,  from 
being  contented  with  her  lot.  Ambition  is  a  foe  to  happi- 
ness, and  in  the  heart  of  our  heroine  it  had  long  reigned 
supreme.  Until  it  was  exorcised  she  could  never  enjoy 
lasting  peace  nor  satisfaction. 

The  morning  came,  and  she  rose  up  from  a  pillow  steeped 
in  tears  to  begin  her  journey.  There  was  a  sad  parting 
between  her  and  her  mother,  though  she  crushed  back  her 
tears  in  that  mother's  presence — a  kindly  good-bye  to 
Mar}^,  a  caressing  touch  of  the  hand  even  to  the  house-cat, 
a  momentary  farewell  glance  at  each  familiar  object  of  her 
home,  and  Hope  turned  her  steps  from  its  threshold  to  go 
forth  into  the  w^orld  alone.  Alone  !  yet  not  alone,  for  who 
can  be  really  alone  when  followed  by  the  prayers  of  a  pious 
mother  ?     Ah  !  who,  indeed  I     She  had  a  disagreeable  ride 


18  Then  and  now  ; 

to  tlie  depot,  which  was  about  twenty  miles  distant.  Her 
route  lay  over  sandy  roads,  crossed  by  black,  sluggish 
creeks,  and  bounded  on  either  side  by  interminable  forests 
of  j)ine.  There  were  a  few  scattered  farm-houses  along  the 
^ay  ;  aside  from  these  the  prospect  was  extremely  monoto- 
nous. Her  escort — an  unlettered  country  lad,  was  by  no 
means  entertaining ;  her  reflections  were  rather  gloomj^, 
and  it  was  with  a  feeling  of  intense  relief  that  she  saw  the 
railroad,  and  felt  that  this,  the  first  part  of  her  journey, 
was  at  an  end.  The  train  was  not  yet  in  hearing  ;  she  had 
plenty  of  time  to  buy  her  ticket,  and  was  beginning  to  be 
a  little  impatient  waiting  at  the  depot,  when  the  shrill 
shriek  of  the  locomotive  was  heard,  and  her  escort  got  on 
the  track  and  signaled  for  the  train  to  stop.  In  a  minute 
it  had  come  to  a  halt,  her  baggage  was  deposited  safely  on 
board,  and  she  herself  snugly  ensconced  in  the  ladies'  car 
near  a  window.  Once  fairly  on  her  way,  and  speeding 
along  swiftly,  farther  and  farther  from  home  and  mothei', 
she  felt  indescribably  lonely.  She  was  going  among 
strangers,  going,  too,  to  engage  in  a  profession  for  which 
she  thought  she  had  no  special  turn,  and  one  which  was 
entirely  new  to  her.  Her  heart  grew  sick  and  faint  at  the 
reflection.  For  one  moment  she  regretted  the  step  that  she 
had  taken,  on  the  next  the  proverb,  "nothing  venture 
nothing  have"  crossed  her  mind,  and  she  felt  sure  that  she 
had  acted  right  in  trying  to  better  her  condition,  even 
though  it  cost  her  present  sacrifice.  At  least,  she  reflected, 
it  will  make  home  seem  dearer  to  me,  and  I  shall  be  better 
contented  upon  my  return ;  and,  anxious  to  banish  disa- 
greeable thoughts,  she  began  to  amuse  herself  by  looking 
oat  of  the  car  window  at  the  swiftly-moving  panorama 
without.  But  there  was  too  much  monotony  in  the  scenes 
for  them  to  prove  very  attractive.  Stretches  of  meadow 
land,  dotted  with  wild  flowers  and  an  endless  succession  of 
chipped  pine  trees,  their  bodies  looking  white  and  ghastly 


OR  hope's  first  school.  19 

in  the  summer  sunlight ;  such  were  the  prominent  features 
of  the  landscape,  varied  occasionally  by  the  transient 
glimpse  of  a  winding  stream  or  a  Heeting  view,  sometimes 
of  a  lowly  hut,  at  others  of  a  comfortable  farm-house.  At 
every  depot  there  was  a  crowd  of  loafers,  both  white  an^ 
colored,  waiting  the  arrival  of  the  train,  as  some  relief  to 
the  monotony  of  a  thriftless  existence.  Weary  of  a  pros- 
pect which  had  but  little  interest  for  her,  Hope  took  a 
magazine  from  her  valise  and  began  to  read.  A  piece 
by  an  author  whose  nom  de  plume  was  familiar  to  her, 
attracted  her  attention.  She  had  read  a  volume  of  j)oetry 
by  the  same  person,  which,  though  seemingly  unaiDpreci- 
ated  by  the  public,  was  fancied  by  Jier  for  its  singularity. 
She  had  seen  but  one  copy  of  the  book,  but  retained  that 
in  her  own  possession,  won.dering  why  otliers  could  not  feel 
its  charm  as  she  did.  The  piece  she  now  read  was  entitled  : 
"PASSING  THOUGHTS;  OR,  THE  VANITY  OF  LIFE." 

It  ran  as  follows  : 

"  I  have  looked  abroad  o'er  all  the  world, 

Have  thought,  until  my  brain  grew  dizzy  witli 

Tlie  toil  of  thinking,  of  the  mysteries 

Which  encompass  all  our  being  ;  the  strange, 

Deep  problems,  which  pass  unnoticed  by 

The  multitude,  and  but  serve  to  mock  the 

Few  who  toil  in  their  solution.    From  our 

Couch  of  rest,  we  in  the  morning  rise,  to 

Eat  and  drink,  and  work  and  play,  and  buy  and 

Sell,  to  see  the  same  scenes,  and  hear  the  same 

Sounds  we  did  on  yesterday  ;  and  then,  we 

Go  to  sleep  again.    And  this  dull  routine 

We  pursue  for  years  ;  varied  perchance  by 

Some  slight  change,  as  marriage  to  the  single, 

Or  danger  and  distress  to  those  who  were 

At  ease,  but  with  naught  to  lift  us  up  above 

Eartli,  and  our  earth-born  cares — our  worldly  joys. 

'  Vanity  of  vanities,  saith  the 


20  THEN    AND    NOW  ; 

Preacher,'  and  rightly  hath  he  said,  for  the 

World  is  nothinji;  else.     Its  joys  are  fleeting 

As  a  shadow  ;  its  fruits,  like  those  of  the  sad 

Dead  Sea,  '  turning  to  ashes  on  the  lips.' 

By  the  moth  are  all  its  treasures  eaten, 

Or  else  hy  rust  corrupted.     Its  fame  is 

But  as  '  sounding  brass  or  tinkling  cymbal,' 

And  happiness,  the  gift  for  which  we  pine, 

Nowhere  is  found,  though  sought  for  night  and  day. 

The  years  go  on  ;  merry  or  sad,  in  hcaltli 

Or  sickness  spent,  it  matters  not ;  still,  with 

Unceasing  flow,  tlie  sands  of  life  are  through 

The  hour-glass  running,  and  age  is  stealing 

Like  a  thief  uj^on  us,  robbing  us  of 

All  the  brightness  of  our  early  days  ;  the 

Lightness  of  our  step,  and  the  magic  charm 

Which,  though  illusory,  once  made  even 

This  dim,  dull  earth  an  Eden  seem. 

The  heart  grows  hard  and  less  trusting  ;  child-like 

Confidence  is  lost,  and  squint-eyed,  doubting 

Suspicion  takes  its  place.     Experience 

Has  taught  the  folly  of  a  too  ready 

Belief  in  others.     The  once  liberal 

Hand,  closed  by  the  selfish  lessons  of 

Its  teacher — worldly  wisdom — grips  with  a 

Tighter  grasp  the  yellow  gold.     The  man 

Worships  most  devoutly  at  the  shrine  of 

Mammon,  e'en  though  the  name  of  Christ  he  bears  ; 

Of  Christ,  the  meek  and  lowly,  who,  when  once 

Tempted,  despised  the  riches  of  the 

World,  and  warned  his  followers  'gainst  the 

Love  of  Mammon.     Oh  !  I  have  learned  to 

Hate  the  world — the  world,  with  all  its  falsehood  ; 

Its  smooth  tongue,  and  base,  black  heart ;  its  flower 

Crowned  cup,  brimming  with  poisoned,  but 

With  sparkling  wine  ;  its  heavenly  smile, 

Veiling  hate  deep  as  hell ;  its  Judas  kiss. 

Meant  but  to  betray;  its  cringing  bow  to 

Yellow  gold  ;  its  scorn  of  jioverty  and 

Toil ;  its  readiness  to  join  all  causes, 

Right  or  wrong,  so  but  the  many  follow  ; 

Its  hunting  down  the  weak,  till  life  is  fled  ; 

Its  robbery  under  the  cloak  of  justice ; 


OR  HOPE  S   FIRST   SCHOOL.  21 

In  short,  its  long,  long  list  of  bitter,  deep, 

And  damning  sins,  each  black  us  Erebus, 

All  proving  that  the  heart  of  man  is  as  * 

Scripture  hath  declared,  'above  all  things 

Deceitful,  and  desperately  wicked.' 

But  more  even  than  I  hate  the  world  have 

I  learned  to  loathe  myself,  so  changed 

Am  I  from  the  light-hearted  boy  that  once 

I  was  ;  so  worn  and  old  before  my  time. 

For  life  was  not  always  thus  with  me.     I 

Have  known  the  day  when  perpetual 

Youth  seemed  resting  on  the  world  ;  my  way 

Strewn  with  flowers  impearled  by  morning's 

Dew.     The  sky  o'ershaded  by  no  clouds  save 

Those  which  gave  its  azure  a  diviner 

Blue.     Earth  smiled  like  Heaven,  while  vistas 

Of  interminable  pleasure  stretched 

Away  before  my  raptured  gaze.     My 

Spirit  was  as  bright  and  buoyant  as  a 

Young  eagle's,  when  first  he  learns  his  power 

To  soar  beyond  the  clouds  and  gaze  upon 

The  glorious  sun  uublenching.     There  was 

Not  one,  on  the  broad  face  of  the  earth,  for  whom 

My  heart  felt  a  throb  of  hate  or  touch  of 

Scorn.     My  being  was  too  full  of  perfect  love. 

Too  brimming  o'er  with  purest  happiness. 

Now  all  is  changed  ;   how  sadly  changed  ! 

For  I  have  felt  the  bitter  rod  of  sore, 

Perchance,  deserved  chastisement;  round  my 

Heart  have  settled  the  ashes  of  dark  and 

Mighty  desolation  ;  or  to  approach 

A  little  nearer  truth,  xonnAwhat  is  left 

Of  what  was  once  my  heart ;  for  the  fierce  fire 

Of  affliction,  in  burning  up  tlie  dross. 

Has  well  nigh  consumed  the  whole  of  what 

I  deemed  a  large,  good  heart,  and  I  seem 

To  myself  worse,  worse  a  thousandfold  than 

In  the  old  bright  days  when  life  was  one  long 

Dream  of  bliss,  and  I  sang  for  joy  like  a 

Glad,  free  bird,  winging  the  air  unharmed. 

Now,  like  the  same  bird,  wounded  by  huntsman's 

Shot,  I  creep  ofl^  to  myself,  would  I  could 


22  THEN   AND   NOW 


5 


Bay  to  die.     So  vain  is  life,  so  little 

Profit  is  there  in  living  under  the 

Sun  ;  in  lengthening  out  our  mortal  days 

To  long,  long  years  of  wretchedness  ;  but  to 

See  the  morning  star  of  promise  fade  from 

Our  sky,  and  dark  (douds  gather  round  our  eve." 

It  was  with  an  interest,  not  at  all  excited  by  any  beauty 
of  style  or  display  of  talent  in  tlie  author,  that  Hope 
read  the  piece  which  we  have  just  quoted.  The  writer 
seemed  to  be  so  like  lierself,  and  expressed  in  words  so 
nearly  the  thoughts  which  had  often  arisen  in  her  own 
mind,  and  there  was,  too,  such  an  outburst  of  utter  wretch 
edness  depicted  in  his  description  of  himself,  that  she  felt 
a  strange  sympathy  for  him.  That  there  was  much  egotism 
in  it  was  excusable  only  in  the  iniserahle.  She  could  un- 
derstand perhaps  better  than  most  others  the  coraposal  of 
a  poem  in  which  self  figured  so  largely.  It  was  like  the 
cry  of  one  racked  by  physical  pain  and  in  too  much  agony 
to  think  of  aught  but  self  and  selfish  needs.  She  found 
herself  wonderincr  if  the  author's  life  had  been  like /^er^, 
and  if  not,  of  what  grief  was  gnawing  like  a  worm  at  his 
heart.  She  felt  a  vague,  dreamy  wish  that  she  could  in 
some  way  "  minister  to  a  mind  diseased,"  and  "  with  some 
sweet,  oblivious  antidote  "  charm  away  the  pain  that  was 
weighing  the  si^irit  down  to  earth.  While  she  was  tliinklng 
the  train  was  speeding  on  its  way,  and  two  honrs'  travel 
brought  her  to  the  town  where  she  was  to  change  cars. 
There  was  the  usual  amount  of  bustle  and  confusion  at  the 
depot;  friends  crowding  around  the  train  to  meet  returning 
friends,  boys  with  fruits,  confectioneries,  or  newspapers  for 
sale,  porters  anxious  for  a  job,  and  the  inevitable  crowd  of 
loafers,  with  no  business  save  to  kill  time. 

Hope  was  but  little  accustomed  to  travelling,  and  it  was 
a  relief  to  her  when  she  found  herself  safe  out  of  the  crowd 
and  in  the  parlor  of  the  hotel,  where  she  had  to  wait  for 


OR   HOPE'S   FIRST   SCHOOL.  23 

the  arrival  of  the  train  which  she  was  to  take  next.  She 
procured  her  ticket  and  amused  herself  as  best  she  could 
watching  the  shifting  crowd  on  tlie  street ;  but  felt, 
"Ah!  so  alone!"  Since  morning  it  seemed  to  her  that 
she  had  drifted  away  from  all  that  she  had  ever  known  or 
cared  for.  Home  was  only  a  few  hours  travel  from  her, 
yet  it  seemed  immeasurably  distant.  A  great  gulf  appeared 
to  yawn  between  her  and  all  that  she  loved.  No  matter 
what  might  happen,  she  was  among  strangers  now^ — no  one 
knew  or  cared  for  her.  The  coming  of  the  train  roused  her 
from  her  reverie.  Hastily  gathering  up  her  book  and  lunch 
basket,  and  giving  her  valise  and  bundles  to  a  servant  to 
carry,  she  hurried  to  the  cars,  and  was  not  many  minutes 
too  early. 

The  country  through  which  she.  now  passed  was  a  little 
different  from  that  which  lay  along  her  morning's  route. 
There  were  fewer  chij)ped  pine  trees,  more  farming  land  ; 
altogether  itw^as  a  more  attractive-looking  section  tlian  that 
over  wiiich  she  had  just  travelled.  It  had  none  of  the 
grand  scener}^  of  a  mountain  region,  yet  it  was  pretty  and 
picturesque. 

With  a  beating  heart  Hope  thought  of  her  meeting  so 
soon  with  her  strange  emj^loyer.  Though  he  was  an  old 
acquaintance  of  her  father's  and  stood  well  in  society,  yet 
how  could  she  tell  whether  she  would  fancy  his  ways  or  he 
hers  \  And  even  if  he  was  perfection,  his  family  might  be 
quite  different  from  him.  Revolving  these  thoughts  in  her 
mind,  and  getting  every  moment  more  and  more  excited, 
she  felt  that  she  would  give  much  if  the  dreaded  encounter 
was  over.  The  train  blew  as  a  signal  to  stop — the  con- 
ductor assisted  her  dow^n  the  stej),  where  a  kindly-looking, 
blue-eyed,  middle-aged  gentleman  stood  waiting  for  her, 
who  introduced  himself  to  her  as  Mr.  Watkins,  and  in  a 
minute  all  of  her  fears  were  set  at  rest,  so  cordial  and 
friendly  was  the  manner  of  her  employer.     Whatever  the 


S4  THE?f    AND    NOW  : 


future  miglit  bring  forth,  Hoj)e  felt  assured  that  she  would 
never  be  deceived  in  one  with  such  an  open,  honest  counte- 
nance as  that  of  Mr,  Watkins.  A  mountain  of  suspense 
seemed  lifted  from  her  heart ;  she  felt  almost  happy. 

"Wait  just  one  moment,  Miss  Caldwell,"  said  Mr. 
Watkins.  "I  will  have  my  buggy  round  here  directly; 
meanwhile  I  will  introduce  you  to  my  little  son  Willie, 
and  he  called  a  little,  fair-skinned,  bkie-eyed  boy,  who  was 
standing  off  a  short  distance  from  him,  and  said  : 

"Willie,  this  is  your  new  teacher,  Miss  Caldwell.  I 
want  you  to  stay  herewith  her  until  I  go  to  the  house  after 
my  horse  and  buggy." 

Willie  obeyed  this  command  so  cheerfully  as  to  render 
himself  very  entertaining  to  Hope  during  Mr.  Watkins' 
brief  absence.  He  informed  her  that  "the  house  where 
Mr.  Watkins  had  gone  was  his  cousin's  ;  that  they  had  been 
waiting  nearly  an  hour  for  her  ;  that  the  shoes  he  had  on 
were  all  that  he  had  ;  that  his  brother  Jamie,  however,  had 
two  pair;  that  his  mother  had  raised  one  hundred  and 
fifty  chickens  that  year,  and  that  his  father  had  sold  thirty 
dollars  worth  of  watermelons  ;  also  that  their  grapes  were 
ripe  and  he  would  give  Jiei^  some  as  soon  as  they  got  home. 
Hope,  though  unaccustomed  to  children,  had  a  natural 
tact  for  pleasing  them,  and  the  two  seemed  on  such  friendly 
terms  upon  Mr.  Watkins'  return  that  he  exclaimed : 
"  Well,  I  declare,  you  are  fast  friends  already.  I  am  glad 
of  it;"  then,  addressing  himself  to  Hope,  he  said: 

"Now,  Miss  Caldwell,  I  will  just  assist  you  in  the 
buggy  and  tie  your  trunk  on  behind,  and  then  we  will 
start." 

On  the  way  he  pointed  out  various  objects  of  interest  to 
her.  On  one  side  of  the  road  a  little  battle  had  been 
fought  during  the  late  civil  war,  and  relics  of  the  struggle 
might  still  be  found.  Hope  admired  the  countr}'-.  It  was 
certainl}^  more  attractive  looking  than  Tradeville,  and  her 


on  KOPECS  FIRST  scnooL.  25 

first  ride  through  it  was  quite  pleasant,  though  she  was 
wondering  all  the  time  what  kind  of  a  woman  Mrs.  Watkins 
would  prove  to  be,  and  whether  she  would  like  Tier  as  well 
as  she  did  her  husband  and  child.  She  pictured  to  herself 
a  staid,  matronly  lady  of  forty  or  thereabouts,  possibly 
pleasant,  but  not  her  companion  in  point  of  age  or  feeling. 
When  they  reached  Mr.  Watkins'  place,  which,  though 
small,  was  pleasant  looking,  and  which  had  a  lovely  flower- 
garden  in  front  of  the  house,  a  girlish-looking,  blue-eyed 
little  woman  was  standing  at  the  gate  waiting  for  them,  and 
before  Hope  could  decide  whether  she  was  the  cMld  or 
10} fe  of  Mr.  Watkins,  she  was  introduced  to  her  by  that 
gentleman  as  Mrs.  Watkins.     With  a  winning  smile  the 


» 


lady  bade  her  welcome,  invited  her  in  the  house,  and  con- 
trived in  so  short  a  time  to  make  our  heroine  feel  entirely 
at  home,  that  she  lost  all  thought  of  the  shortness  of  their 
acquaintance,  and  chatted  away  so  merrily  as  almost  to 
surprise  herself.  The  two  children  whom  Hope  had  not 
yet  seen  soon  entered  the  room.  The  eldest  was  a  manly 
little  fellow,  some  ten  years  old,  who  had  had  the  misfor- 
tune to  lose  his  left  eye  ;  the  youngest  a  fair-skinned,  blue- 
eyed,  golden-haired  darling— a  cherub  seldom  seen  out  of 
a  picture.     Hope  fell  in  love  with  her  at  once. 

At  supper  she  was  introduced  to  the  last  member  of  this 
pleasant  family  circle.  He  was  an  employe  of  Mr.  W^at- 
kins— a  young  man  who  clerked  for  him— a  brown-eyed, 
curly-haired  youth,  some  eighteen  years  old,  whom  Hope 
thought  rather  handsome  and  pleasant  in  manner. 

She  spent  an  agreeable  evening  with  her  new  friends,  and 
when,  after  the  regular  family  worshixi  was  over,  she  was 
shown  to  her  room,  she  could  not  possibly  realize  that  she 
had  just  known  them  for  a  few  short  hours.  Though  much 
fatigued,  she  did  not  at  once  fall  asleep.  The  past  day 
seemed  so  strange  to  her,  the  morning  so  far  removed  from 
the  night,  the  various  incidents  of  the  day  so  mingled  in 


36  THE^  ANt)  NOW  ' 


lier  mind,  that  it  required  an  effort  on  her  part  to  believe 
that  it  was  all  real,  and  not  a  creation  of  her  own  imagi- 
nation. When  at  last  she  sank  to  sleep,  the  events  of  the 
last  twenty-four  honrs  haunted  her  dreams,  and  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Watldns  and  the  little  clerk  were  strangely  con- 
founded with  the  author  of  "Passing  Thoughts,''  whom 
she  fancied  in  dreamland,  she  had  met  in  one  of  her  new 
friends — she  could  not  tell  icliich. 


CHAPTER  IV. 


When  Hope  awoke  the  morning  after  her  arrival  at  her 
new  home,  it  was  with  an  undefined  impression  of  some 
cliange  having  come  over  her  life,  but  loliat  she  could  not 
at  first  imagine.  It  was  not  until  she  glanced  around  the 
apartment  and  surveyed  the  different  articles  of  furniture 
in  the  room  that  she  recalled  to  mind  where  she  was  and 
the  occurrences  of  yesterday.  She  lay  in  bed  awhile, 
thinking  over  her  trip  and  wondering  what  the  future  might 
have  in  store  for  her,  but  still  with  no  great  anxiety  con- 
nected with  her  musings.  She  had  a  restful  feeling  of 
being  at  home  and  among  friends,  which  before  leaving  her 
mother's  roof,  she  did  not  believe  possible  for  lier  to  expe- 
rience among  strangers.  After  she  arose,  made  a  careful 
toilet  and  straightened  up  her  apartment,  as  was  her  habit, 
she  walked  out  in  the  flower  garden,  w^iere  some  flowers 
were  still  in  bloom.  Her  exercise  in  the  open  air  gave  her 
an  appetite  for  the  nice  breakfast  smoking  on  the  table, 
which  she  enjoyed,  along  with  the  lively  chat  around  the 
social  board.  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Watkins  seemed  to  vie  with 
each   other  as   to  which    should   make  the   wittiest  and 


OR  hope's  first  school.  27 

merriest  speeches,  and  their  mirth  was  contagious.  Hoi)e 
found  herself  laughing  gayly,  and  wondered  at  the  change 
which  had  come  over  her  feelings.  She  soon  ascertained 
that  the  school  would  not  begin  for  a  week  yet,  and  that 
she  would  have  i)lenty  of  time  for  rest  and  also  to  make 
new  acquaintances  before  entering  upon  her  duties  as  a 
teacher.  The  school-house  was  to  have  some  rejiairs  made 
to  it  ere  it  could  be  occupied,  and  it  would  probablj^  take 
a  week  to  complete  them.  All  this  was  told  her  at  the 
breakfast  table.  Hope  did  not  regret  it,  but  she  had  a- 
great  desire  to  see  her  school  and  scholars. 

The  week  passed  away  very  quietly.  The  neighbors, 
though  living  near,  seemed  in  no  haste  to  call  on  her,  and 
Mrs.  Watkins  was  busy  with  her  domestic  duties  much  of 
the  time,  and  had  to  be  out  of  the  room,  and  so  Ho^De  was 
thrown  upon  her  own  resources  for  entertainment.  She 
was  at  no  loss,  however.  She  wrote  to  her  mother ;  did 
fancy  work ;  arranged  and  re-arranged  her  apartment ; 
read  such  books  as  she  had  brought  with  her,  and  con- 
trived not  to  get  home-sick  nor  low-spirited,  though  a  ijart 
of  tlie  time  did  not  liy  by  on  fairy  wing.  At  meal  times 
they  were  merry  and  social  enough,  and  at  night  after 
supper  the  family,  together  with  Hoi)e,  would  sit  out  on 
the  piazza  in  the  moonlight  and  chat  and  sing  until  bed- 
time. The  little  clerk,  whose  name  was  Robert  King,  was 
friendly  but  bashful,  and  as  Hope  did  not  suit  a  bashful 
boy  very  well,  it  seemed  destined  that  they  should  be  a 
little  distant  to  each  other  for  some  time  to  come.  In  the 
future  they  might  be  familiar  friends,  but  it  was  not  her 
disposition  to  make  the  advance  toward  any  nearer  ac- 
quaintanceship with  anyone.  On  the  Sabbath  Hope  went 
to  preaching  in  the  little  town  about  four  miles  distant 
from  them.  The  ride  thither  was  very  pleasant.  The 
sultry,  summer  weather  had  given  place  to  the  more  agree- 
able temperature  of  the  early  Autumn  ;  the  leaves  were 


28   .  THEN    AND   NOW 


5 


changing  their  green  color  to  gorgeous  hues  of  crimson, 
l)urple  and  gold,  and  the  deep  blue  sky  seemed  to  bend 
lovingly  over  the  richly  attired  earth.  The  streams  sparkled 
like  silver  in  the  sunlight ;  gentle  breezes  stirred  the  tree 
tops  ;  splendid  wild  flowers  were  visible  on  every  side  ;  an 
atmosphere  of  blessedness  seemed  to  pervade  everything. 
Hope  could  not  withstand  the  sweet  influences  of  the  morn- 
ing. She  possessed  a  nature  that  was  exquisitely  suscep- 
tible to  every  touch  of  joy,  and  she  loas  passionately  fond 
of  beauty,  and  just  now  a  strange  peace  and  satisfaction 
filled  her  whole  being  ;  she  was  for  the  time  happy.  Who, 
after  all,  is  not  blessed,  when  in  the  enjoyment  of  perfect 
health,  of  the  fresh  air  and  gentle  sunshine  ?  Yet  in  the 
toil  after  wealth  or  fame,  amid  the  petty  cares  and  struggles 
of  life,  how  forgetful  are  we  of  those  glorious  gifts  which 
are  among  the  richest  of  those  bestowed  upon  man  by  a 
bountiful  Creator. 

A  new  pleasure  was  in  store  for  Hop3  when  she  arrived 
at  the  church.  The  preacher  upon  this  occasion  was  a 
gentleman  who  used  to  be  pastor  of  the  church  of  which 
her  father  was  a  member,  and  was  one  whose  voice  she  had 
often  heard  in  prayer  around  the  fireside  at  her  father's 
house.  Memories,  sad  but  sweet,  were  stirred  by  this  un- 
expected glimpse  of  one  who  was  so  intimately  associated 
with  the  recollections  of  her  childhood  and  early  youth. 
His  sermon  was  an  able  one,  but  she  scarcely  hearkened  to 
it.  Unconsciously  to  herself,  she  was  drifting  back  to  the 
past  years  of  her  life  ;  to  the  happy  time  when  Fortune 
smiled  upon  them  ;  when  her  father  was  yet  with  them  ; 
when  hope  was  high  within  her  heart,  and  when  she  fore- 
saw ?io  cloud  in  the  bright  sky  of  her  future.  8he  half 
forgot  for  a  moment  the  terrible,  crushing  realities  which 
had  taken  the  place  of  all  the  glorious  things  which  a  too 
sanguine  imagination  had  prophesied.  Just  as  she  had 
foreseen  the  future,  so  now  did  she  looJi  hacJc  upon  the  past 


OR  hope's  first  school.    .  29 

throngli  the  delusioe  glass  of  fancy.  For,  as  briglit  as  it 
was,  compared  igUJl  her  present  life,  its  Howers  were  not  so 
thornless,  nor  its  patlis  so  smooth,  as  she  now  imagined 
them  to  have  been. 

After  services  were  over  she  waited  with  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Watkins  until  Mr.  Long,  for  that  was  the  preacher's  name, 
made  his  way  slowly  down  the  aisle  to  the  pew  where  they 
sat.  She  enjoyed  his  start  of  surprise  and  the  expression 
of  gladness  which  passed  over  his  face  as,  after  a  mo- 
mentary gaze  he  recognized  her. 

"My  dear  Miss  Hope !"  he  exclaimed,  "  I  did  not  dream 
of  seeing  you  here  to-da3^  I  did  not  observe  you  while 
speaking.     What  fortunate  wind  has  wafted  you  thither?" 

"I  came  as  a  teaclier  in  Mr.  Watkins'  neighborhood," 
she  replied. 

"  A  teacher  !  well,  I  am  really  surprised.  The  last  time 
1  saw  you,  you  were  a  school-girl  ;  but  that  has  been  several 
years  ago.  Time  flies  so  rapidly  that  we  do  not  realize  the 
swiftness  of  his  flight  until  we  witness  the  changes  he  has 
wrought.  Well,  since  we  are  so  near  together  I  hope  to 
see  you  often.  My  wife  will  be  charmed  to  meet  with  you 
and  will  visit  you  as  soon  as  she  can ;  but  you  must  not 
wait  for  lier,  if  you  have  an  opportunity  of  calling  on  us, 
for  she  has  a  crowd  of  little  ones  to  look  after  and  has 
very  little  time  for  visiting.  I  trust  that  3'our  school  may 
prosper,  and  that  you  may  like  the  profession,  for  I  sup- 
pose it  is  new  to  you." 

"  Yes,  sir,  this  is  my  first  attempt  at  teaching." 

"  Really  ;  then  you  will  have  more  difficulties  to  contend 
with  than  fall  to  the  lot  of  an  experienced  teacher.  But 
you  need  not  be  discouraged.  There  are  tico  sources  of 
strength  upon  which  we  can  rely  with  unwavering  confi- 
dence in  hours  of  trials.  These  are :  God  and  a  strong 
wllir 

These  last  words  haunted  Hoi^e  ui)on  her  homeward 


80  THEN   AND   NOW  ; 

route.  She  did  not  lack  for  determination,  but  her  own 
heart  bore  witness  to  the  truth  that  she  did  not  often  go  to 
the  Lord  for  help  in  her  troubles. 

The  Sabbath  evening  brought  several  visitors  to  Mr. 
Watkins',  and  though  at  heart  Hope  did  not  approve  of 
visiting  on  the  Lord's  day,  yet  she  felt  less  lonely  in  the 
presence  of  visitors.  Robert  King,  whose  bashfulness  was 
beginning  to  wear  away,  was  quite  chatty  and  agreeable  ; 
her  girl  visitors,  whose  names  were  respectively  Mary  and 
Hattie  Stuart,  were  verj^  pretty  and  pleasant,  and  the  two 
young  men  who  were  with  them  were  w^ell  bred  and  rather 
intelligent.  The  one  who  bore  the  name  of  Daniel  Young 
was  more  than  ordinarily  handsome,  and  though  over 
thirty  years  old,  did  not  look  a  year  over  twenty-five. 
The  other  young  man  w^as  not  so  handsome,  yet  our 
heroine  liked  him  better.  There  was  such  an  expression  of 
honesty  and  candor  in  the  clear,  blue  eyes  of  Nathan 
Alison,  such  a  manly  look  about  his  face  and  figure,  that 
one  was  involuntarily  impressed  with  a  firm  belief  that  he 
was  all  that  his  face  bespoke  for  him. 

The  conversation  that  evening  turned  on  a  variety  of 
topics.  Hope's  trip;  the  difference  in  the  appearance  of 
the  country  around  her  i^resent  home  and  that  in  which 
Tradeville  was  situated ;  the  sermon  of  the  morning ;  the 
beauties  of  Nature  ;  the  loveliness  of  the  autumnal  daj^ 
were  subjects  which  were  all  discussed  in  turn.  Then  her 
visitors  expressed  a  wish  that  Hope  would  not  get  home- 
sick, and  advised  her  to  enjoy  herself  as  much  as  x)ossible 
at  eVery  opportunity. 

"You  will  find  this  quite  a  sociable  neighborhood.  Miss 
Caldwell,"  said  Hattie  Stuart.  "There  are  a  plenty  of 
young  people  around  here,  and  we  have  j)ic-nics  and 
fishing  parties,  private  theatricals  and  amateur  concerts 
quite  often,  and  really,  though  it  is  a  country  neighbor- 
hood, the  time  passes  away  quite  swiftly.  I  do  hope  you 
may  have  a  good  time  when  you  are  here." 


OR   HOPE'S   FIRST   SCHOOL.  3l 

Hope,  tlioiigh  generally  rather  reserved,  was  too  kind- 
hearted  herself,  and  too  grateful  for  kindness  in  others,  to 
withstand  the  interest  which  her  new  friends  seemed  to 
take  in  her.  She  thanked  them  for  their  good  wishes,  and 
said  that  "she  did  not  doubt  but  that  she  would  enjoy  her- 
self if  all  the  people  of  the  neighborhood  were  as  pleasant 
as  those  she  had  already  met." 

"You  are  a  young-looking  teacher.  Miss  Caldwell," 
remarked  Mary  Stuart ;  "1  presume  this  is  your  first  expe- 
rience in  that  line  of  business,  is  it  not?" 

"^es,"  answered  Hope,  "and  you  cannot  imagine  how 
I  dread  the  first  day  of  school.  If  that  were  over,  I  do 
riot  think  I  should  mind  the  rest." 

"  Yes,  I  can  imagine  your  feelings,"  said  Hattie  Stuart, 
laughing.  "Believe  me,  I  would  not  be  a  teacher  for  all 
the  world  contains.  I  would  sooner  hoe  corn  and  collards 
for  a  living.  I  can  remember  too  well  how  we  girls  used  to 
contrive  plans  to  provoke  our  teachers,  and  alas  !  too  often 
our  efforts  in  that  direction  proved  a  brilliant  success.  I 
would  shudder  at  the  bare  thought  ol:  having  my  patience 
so  tried." 

"Yes,"  said  Hope,  thoughtfully,  "I  believe  myself  it 
requires  patience  to  succeed  in  teaching  ;  but  does  it  not 
to  succeed  in  ezerythlng  else  of  importance  f 

"I  suppose  so,"  replied  the  girl,  "but  1  never  stick  at 
anything  long  enough  to  get  tired  of  it." 

"I  think  we  have  the  same  motto,  Miss  Hattie,"  said 
Daniel  Young.  "Let  us  eat,  drink  and  be  meny,  and 
leave  others  to  toil  as  much  as  they  see  lit." 

'•That  may  do,'''  said  Hope,  "for  those  who  can  afford 
it,  but  some  are  bound  to  work  in  order  that  otliers  may 
enjoy  ease P  It  was  as  much  as  to  say,  "  the  honey  bees 
must  work  for  the  drones." 

Hattie  Stuart  laughed,  as  she  did  at  nearly  everijihing 
that  was  said,  but  Daniel  Young  winced  a  little  at  Hope's 


^2  THEN   AND    NOW 


speech,  as  unintentional  as  was  any  personal  hit  or  allusion 
on  her  part.  She  was  merely  looking  at  the  world  in  a 
practical  point  of  view— at  the  toiling  masses  wearing  out 
soul  and  body  for  the  ease-loving  few  to  enjoy  the  fruits  of 
other  s  labor  and  hardship. 

Nathan  Alison,  sturdy  young  farmer  that  he  was,  took 
Hope's  side  of  the  question  : 

''  You  are  right,  Miss  Caldwell,"  he  said,  some  are  com- 
pelled to  work  and  endure  privation  that  others  may  enjo}^ 
themselves,  and  yet  I  think  that  those  who  are  employed 
are  the  happier.  The  rust  of  idleness  is  worse  than  the 
wear  of  toil." 

Conversation  on  this  subject  soon  flagged,  however,  and 
turned  on  other  themes,  and  after  spending  quite  a  pleasant 
evening,  the  visitors  took  their  departure,  with  promises  of 
calling  again  soon,  and  with  many  solicitations  to  Hope  to 
visit  them. 

"  I  will  send  brother  after  you  any  time  you  will  promise 
to  come,"  said  Hattie.  "Come  some  Saturday  or  Friday 
evening  and  stay  till  Monday  morning,  and  we  will  have  a 
nice  time.  I  am  very  anxious  for  father  and  mother, to 
see  you." 

"  Thank  3^ou,"  replied  Hope,  "I  should  be  most  happy 
to  see  them,  and  certainl}^  intend  visiting  you  if  I  possibly 
can."  Then  they  made  their  adieus,  and  the  new 
acquaintances  separated  mutually  pleased  with  each  other. 
When  they  had  left  and  Mr.  Watkins  and  his  wife  had 
gone  ofl"  to  their  respective  employments,  Hoj;)e  was  alone 
and  in  deep  thought.  She  reviewed  all  the  events  of  the 
j)ast  day— her  unexpected  meeting  with  her  father  s  old 
pastor,  her  acquaintanceship  with  her  newly-found  friends, 
all  of  the  pleasures  of  this  pleasant  Sabbath,  and  she  felt 
thankful  for  the  mercies  of  the  day,  and  caught  herself 
building  up  air-castles  for  the  future.  All  of  the  agreeable 
occurrences  of  the  daj^  seemed  like  a  resurrection  of  a  small 


OE  hope's  first  school.  33 

part  of  that  liai)piness  wliicli  she  had  firmly  believed  laid 
in  the  grave  forever,  and  encouraged  her  to  hope  that  in 
the  far  future  there  might  still  be  some  joy  in  store  for  her. 
What  if,  after  all,  every  fond  dream  of  the  past  might  be 
realized,  all  at  least  of  her  anticipations  in  regard  to  wealth 
awdi  fame.  As  for  love,  she  felt  assured  that  never  for 
tliat  could  there  be  a  resurrection  in  her  heart.  Its  very 
ashes  had  grown  too  cold  for  the  breath  of  mortal  ever  to 
kindle  that  sacred  flame  again.  But  if  wealth,  fame,  friends 
were  hers  she  would  be  perfectly  contented.  So,  at  least, 
she  thought .^  and  the  September  sun  sank  below  the  horizon, 
and  "twilight  grey  had  in  its  sober  livery  all  things  clad," 
ere  she  ceased  indulging  in  the  delightful  employment  of 
castle-building  and  rejoined  the  family  at  supper. 


CHAPTER  V. 


"Well,  Miss  Hope,"  said  Mr.  Watkins,  on  the  Monday 
morning  when  her  school  was  to  begin,  "I  trust  you  may 
get  on  with  your  scholars  without  difficulty,  but  I  forewarn 
you  that  you  may  expect  many  trials  and  vexations  as  a 
teacher,  not  only  from  the  stubbornness  and  idleness  of 
scholars,  but  also  from  the  interference  of  ignorant  or  mis- 
taken parents.  I  have  taught  school  myself,  and  know 
whereof  I  speak.  There  is  one  little  child  who  I  expect 
will  be  a  pupil  of  yours,  with  whom  I  fear  you  will  have 
considerable  trouble.  His  parents  are  extremely  illiterate 
people,  and  belong  to  the  very  lowest  class,  and  he  has  had 
no  training  except  in  evil,  and  bears  the  name  of  being  a 
very  bad  boy.  His  father  likes  me,  however,  and  I  hated 
to  see  his  boy  grow  up  without  the  slightest  chance  for  an 
education,  and  so  persuaded  him  to  send  Johnnie  to  school, 


34  THEN   AND   NOW  ' 

but  I  have,  on  your  account^  almost  regretted  it  since,  for 
I  fear  it  will  scarcely  be  good  treatment  to  you  to  inflict 
such  a  nuisance  on  you." 

"  Never  mind,''  said  Hope,  cheerily,  "  we  will  first  see  if 
nothing  can  he  done  to  improve  him  ere  giving  him  up  as  a 
reprobate." 

Why  was  it  that  from  that  moment  the  young  teacher 
determined  that  if  in  human  power  to  compass  it,  Johnnie 
should  prove  an  honor  instead  of  a  disgrace  to  her  school  ? 
It  was  partly  from  ambition — from  a  wish  to  prove  herself 
equal  to  the  severest  task  of  a  teacher ;  but  it  w\as  fully  as 
much  from  a  yearning  symx^athy  for  the  little  offcast,  a 
disposition  akin  to  that  of  the  angels  w^hen  they  rejoice 
over  "one  sinner  that  repenteth  more  than  over  ninety  and 
nine  just  persons  who  need  no  repentance. 

Hope  never  forgot  the  events  of  that  Monday  morning. 
The  school  house  was  about  three-quarters  of  a  mile  from 
Mr.  Watkins,  and  her  walk  thither  was  delighful.  The 
roads  were  dry  and  hard,  the  weather  pleasant,  the  view 
along  her  path,  if  not  picturesque,  was  at  least  rural  and 
pretty,  and  she  herself  was  in  good  spirits.  James  and 
Willie  were  chatting  gaily  together,  wuth  little  Johnnie 
Irving,  the  little  boy  of  whom  Mr.  W^atkins  had  told  her, 
and  the  three  gathered  bunches  of  wild  flowers  and  brought 
them  to  her.  The  walk  seemed  so  short  that  she  was  sur- 
prised when  she  heard  the  children  exclaim  in  unison, 
"Yonder's  the  school  house!"  She  glanced  toward  the 
spot  they  designated,  and  there,  half-concealed  by  the 
large  trees  in  front  of  it,  was  the  scene  of  her  future  trials 
for  the  next  few  months.  A  tolerably  large  frame  house, 
with  a  brick  chimney,  heavy  wooden  shutters  to  the  glass 
windows,  and  a  narrow  piazza  in  front — a  house  wdiose 
appearance  a  coat  of  paint  would  certainly  have  improved 
very  much— such  was  Hope's  school  house.  There  was 
nothing  in  its  outw^ard  asi^ect  to  absolutely  repel  one,  but 


OR  hope's  first  school.  35 

there  was  equally  as  little  to  attract.  The  interior  corres- 
ponded most  charmingly  with  its  outward  looks.  Walls 
which  had  once  been  white,  smoked  almost  to  blackness  by 
a  too  free  use  of  lightwood  in  the  wide,  yawning  fire-place, 
and  ornamented  by  the  hieroglyphics  of  incipient  pensmen, 
heavy,  clumsy  desks,  so  awkwardly  constructed  as  more  to 
resemble  a  contrivance  for  punishment  than  a  comfortable 
seat  for  the  "human  form  divine,"  a  scratched  and  shabby- 
looking  blackboard,  and  a  platform  constructed  for  the  use 
of  embryo  orators,  "the  future  Wirts  and  Henrj^s  of  the 
commonwealth;"  such  was  the  interior  of  this  ijlace  for 
instruction.  Whatever  a  child  might  learn  here  would 
certainly  be  from  hard  study,  not  from  the  attractivenes  of 
his  surroundings.  Only  the  bare  necessities  of  a  scholar's 
life  and  hardly  that ;  no  brightness  nor  beauty  to  allure  the 
little  feet  up  the  steep  hill  of  knowledge.  Yet  as  much  as 
it  lacked  of  what  a  school-room  ought  to  be,  of  what  it 
might  be,  with  a  very  little  extra  expense,  this  building  was 
very  far  superior  to  the  average  school-house  in  the  country. 

"  You  will  not  lack  for  light,  Miss  Caldw^ell,"  remarked 
one  of  her  patrons,  pointing  to  the  narrow  windows,  with 
their  diminutive  panes  of  glass,  nor  for  fire  either." 

He  did  not  add  that  the  chimney  smoked  so  as  at  times 
to  have  both  teachers  and  scholars  in  tears. 

"  Children  is  so  pampered  up  now-a-days,"  said  old  Mr. 
Fogy  man  to  her  ;  ''  why,  when  /went  ter  school  there  was 
jest  one  long  table  for  all  to  write  at,  and  not  a  bench  with 
a  back  to  it  in  the  school-house.  I  sometimes  tells  my 
children  I  don't  know  what  they'scomin'  to." 

A  majority  of  Hope's  patrons  were,  however,  liberal- 
thinking,  as  well  as  kind-hearted  i^eople,  who,  if  they 
might  err  in  small  matters,  were  too  generous  and  hospi- 
table for  one  to  find  much  fault  with  them.  Mr.  Watkins, 
in  particular,  seemed  disx)osed  to  do  all  in  his  power  for 
her,  and  strove  to  render  her  lot  as  easy  and  ^^leasant  as 


36  THEN    AND   NOW  ; 

jjossible.  She  suf^gested  a  few  additions  to  the  schoo^ 
furniture,  which  he  i^romised  to  see  to  for  her.  Tliere  were 
some  thirty  scholars  in  and  around  the  house,  besides  some 
of  the  patrons  of  the  school.  Among  the  latter  w^as  a 
middle-aged  woman,  whose  sallow  skin,  coarse  gray  hair, 
ugly  features  and  awkward  figure  would  have  rendered  her 
an  extremely  unattractive  person,  even  in  the  most  elegant 
attire,  but  when  her  natural  homeliness  was  still  farther  set 
off  by  a  blue  homespun  dress,  with  plain  and  not  over- wide 
skirt,  a  broad  old-fashioned  linen  collar,  worked  in  large 
scallops  and  fastened  by  a  huge  antiquated  breast-pin,  a 
long  brown  calico  apron,  hair  arranged  in  a  knot  about  as 
big  as  a  fifty  cent  piece,  and  immense  circular  ear-rings  in 
her  ears,  she  reminded  Hope  very  much  of  a  comic  valen- 
tine. Before  the  latter  had  more  than  hung  up  her  hat  and 
taken  her  seat,  this  lady  came  down  one  of  the  aisles  with 
her  boys  on  either  side  of  her.  These  boys  were  white- 
haired,  with  complexion  resembling  the  color  of  dirtj^ 
tallow,  and  i^ale,  dull-looking  blue  eyes,  looking  straight 
at  Hope.  They  were  dressed  in  a  style  resembling  that  of 
their  mother,  as  near  as  the  difference  of  sex  permitted. 
Blue  checked  shirts  and  a  suit  of  brown  homespun,  with 
stout  shoes  and  socks  knit  at  home  ;  such  was  their  attire, 
yet  they  looked  quite  neat.  Their  mother  stopped  before 
Hope,  and  with  a  courtesy  which  would  have  done  honor  to 
some  lady  of  a  century  back  said : 

"This  is  Miss  Caldwell,  I  suppose  ?" 

"  Yes,  ma'am,"  said  Hope,  scarcely  knowing  whether  to 
be  amused,  vexed  or  afraid,  "that  is  my  name." 

"And  mine,"  the  lady  returned,  "is  Simmons— the 
widder  Simmons.  I  work  hard  for  a  livin',  I  does,  and 
these  here  are  my  two  sons.  My  husband  was  a  kind  of 
politicianer,  and  so,  sez  he,  when  my  oldest  son  was  named, 
he  shall  be  called  George  Washington.  That's  him," 
designating  the  tallest  boy,  "and  the  youngest  is  named 


OR  hope's  first  school.  37 

Thomas  Jefferson.  Who  knows,  sez  he,  but  that  they  both 
may  be  Presidents  some  day,  for  this  country  is  free,  sez  he, 
and  the  x)oor  man's  child  can  rise  as  well  as  the  rich  man's. 
Well,  I've  tried  to  do  my  best  since  he  died,  but  I  can't 
manage  to  send  them  to  school  but  four  or  five  months  in 
the  year  generally,  and  we  don't  get  much  of  the  free 
money  here.  But  I  expect  to  send  them  this  whole  session, 
and  what  I  come  to  tell  you  is  this  :  My  two  boys  is  very 
ditterent  in  their  turns.  George  Washington  is  very  differ- 
ent in  his  disposition  from  Thomas  Jefferson.  You  see 
I'm  their  mother,  and  I  understand  them.  But  you  can't 
drive  'na  one  of  them.  They  both  must  be  coaxed,  they 
must  be  dealt  kindly  with,  and  I  wants  you  to  treat  them 
jest  as  good  as  if  they  was  the  richest  boys  in  the  land. 
But  George — lis  has  a  turn  for  'rethmetic  and  he's  kinder 
mischievous,  which  I  don't  want  you  to  ptay  no  'tention  to, 
'cause  it's  his  disposition,  and  he  don't  mean  no  harm  by 
it,  but  Tommie  is  as  good  a  boy  as  the  sun  ever  shined  on, 
only  he  don't  love  books  much,  which  I  thinks  sensable, 
sence  he  hain't  been  to  school  much.  But  I'll  try  them 
both  awhile,  and  ef  tliey  don't  get  along  I'll  take  them 
away  ;  so  I'll  jest  let  you  know  aforehand.  Their  books 
is  jest  such  as  I  had.  George's  spelling-book  was  mine 
when  I  went  ter  school,  and  I  hope  you  won't  let  the 
children  tear  it  on  tltat  account ;  and  Tommie' s  used  to  be 
my  dear  old  man's,  which  I  prize  jest  as  much.  And 
when  any  of  the  other  children  mistreats  mine  I  jest  ho2)e 
you  will  thrash  them  well." 

It  was  well  for  Hope  that  this  scene  presented  itself  to 
her  in  so  ludicrous  a  light  -touched  her  sense  of  the  ridicu 
lous  so  keenly  as  to  overpower  the  very  natural  indignation 
which  she  felt  at  being  dictated  to  by  such  a  person,  and 
that,  too,  at  the  very  beginning  of  her  school.  But  view- 
ing it  in  this  light  it  was  with  great  difficulty  she  could 
prevent  herself  from  giving  vent  to  her  feelings  by  laughing 


38  THEN"   AND   NOW 


outright — the  more  particularly  that  she  chanced  to  catch 
Mr.  Watkins'  eye  about  this  time  and  noticed  its  mis- 
chievous twinkle.  Then,  too,  her  feelings  of  sympatJiy 
were  aroused  in  behalf  of  a  poor,  lone,  hard-working 
widow,  who,  in  her  ignorance  and  excess  of  maternal  love, 
had  come  to  let  it  be  known  that  she  meant  to  have  justice 
done  her  chiklren.  Thinking  over  the  matter  thus,  Hope 
lost  all  thought  of  anger,  and  replied  to  Mrs.  Simmons  in 
quite  a  dignified  manner,  assuring  her  that  she  would  cer- 
tainly do  right  by  the  children,  and  that  if  there  was  any 
fault  to  find  it  wcnild  be  decidedly  the  best  to  take  them 
home.  The  old  ladj'^  was  so  awed  by  Hope's  manner  that 
she  said  not  another  word  to  her,  except  to  "  wisli  her  w^ell" 
upon  her  departure.  The  rest  of  the  patrons  who  were 
present,  after  being  introduced  to  Hope  by  Mr.  Watkins, 
spoke  a  few  encouraging  words  to  her  in  regard  to  the  new 
life  she  was  about  to  begin,  assured  her  of  their  interest  in 
the  well-being  of  her  school,  and  their  readiness  to  assist 
her  in  any  way  possible.  Hope  thanked  them  for  their 
good  wishes,  and  to  their  offers  of  assistance  suggested  that 
a  "load  or  two  of  wood  be  hauled  to  the  school-house  and 
a  plentiful  suj^ply  of  chalk  or  craj^ons  be  provided  for  the 
children's  exercises  on  the  blackboard."  These  requests 
they  promised  should  be  complied  with,  and  took  their 
departure,  leaving  the  pupils  W'Ondering  why  their  teacher 
should  want  wood  put  in  place  so  early  in  the  season. 
Hoj)e's  scholars  ranged  from  seven  to  eighteen  years,  and 
were  about  as  varied  a  collection  as  one  generally  sees  at  a 
country  school.  They  were  as  diverse  from  each  other,  and 
raised  under  as  different  influences  as  though  Christendom 
and  Paganism  had  set  the  bounds  between  them.  Here 
were  two  little  children  who  were  interesting  in  appearance 
and  gifted  with  more  than  ordinar}^  intelligence,  whose 
father  was  a  gambler  and  the  keeper  of  a  common  bar- 
room, while  their  mother  w\as  intelligent  and  more  than 


OE  hope's  first  school.  39 

ordinarily  refined.  The  two  oldest  girls  in  school  were 
sisters,  one  eighteen,  the  other  sixteen  years  old.  They 
were  well  formed,  good  looking  girls,  but  bore  unmis- 
takable marks  of  having  been  roughly  raised.  Their 
names  were  Helen  and  Mary  Hartwell.  Both  were  deplo- 
rably ignorant,  they  being  barely  able  to  read  and  write  a 
little,  and  not  even  knowing  the  mn]tij)lication  table  per- 
fectly. There  were  three  other  sisters,  who  seemed  so  kind- 
hearted  and  affectionate,  and  withal  so  pleased  with  their  new 
teacher,  that  Hope  felt  an  affection  spring  up  in  her  heart 
for  them.  Then  there  was  a  little  girl  and  boy  who  inter- 
ested her — the  boy  from  his  active  ways  and  intelligent 
look — the  girl  from  her  dark,  gips3'isli  beauty  and  modest 
appearance.  They  bore  the  names  of  Leola  Wilkins  and 
Roy  Wilkins.  A  blue-eyed,  light-haired,  intelligent  girl 
named  Ida  Hunter,  a  boy  of  seventeen,  with  an  honest, 
pleasant  face,  wdio  walked  on  crutches,  called  David 
Wheeler,  a  handsome,  hazel-eyed  little  fellow  by  the  name 
of  Harry  Ambler,  two  awkward,  red-haired,  freckled-faced 
boys,  who  rejoiced  under  the  musical  cognomens  of  Sam 
and  Joe  Siggins,  and  a  sweet-faced,  brown-eyed  girl  called 
Katie  Powers.  Such  were  a  few  of  the  most  conspicuous 
of  Hope's  scholars,  the  list  terminating  with  three  who 
were  more  noticeable  for  the  extreme  length  of  their  respec- 
tive names  than  for  any  distinguishing  characteristic  they 
possessed.  They  were  called  respectiveh^  Euphemia  Ann, 
Octavia  Jane  and  xldolphus  Henry  Tyler.  W^hen  told 
their  names  Hope  wondered  to  herself  why  x^eople  would 
impose  such  burdensome  names  on  poor,  helpless  children. 
Of  course  she  had  to  call  her  pupils  to  order  before  blessed 
with  a  knowledge  of  their  names.  She  then  wrote  down 
the  name  of  eacli  in  her  school  register,  and  asked  each  one 
some  general  questions,  with  a  view  of  ascertaining  ti;e 
advancement  of  the  individual  members  of  her  school 
before  endeavoring  to  classify  them.      But   in   tr3ing   to 


40  THEN   AND    NOW  ; 

arrange  tliem  in  classes  slie  was  completely  foiled.  There 
were  not  a  dozen  text  books  alike  in  the  school.  In  spell- 
ing, Webster' s  speller — ' '  the  blue-  backed  spelling  book, ' '  as 
the  children  called  it.  took  the  lead,  yet  there  were  other 
spellers  used  by  the  pupils.  The  readers,  it  seemed  to  her, 
were  by  every  author  who  had  written  since  the  Revolu- 
tion ;  geography  hj  Smith,  Mitchell,  Cornell,  Monteitli 
and  others ;  grammar  by  as  many  different  authors,  ditto 
arithmetic,  liistories  and  definers  ;  copy-books  were  of  vari- 
ous kinds  ;  some  consisted  of  a  few  sheets  of  i^aper,  pur- 
chased at  the  nearest  store  and  carelessly  sewed  together. 
These  were  intended  for  copies  to  be  "  set"  by  the  teacher. 
Some  were  similarly  made,  but  had  copies  already  "set" 
by  previous  teachers  or  by  some  friend  who  prided  him  or 
herself  on  writing  a  prettj^  hand,  while  some,  as  their 
owners  proudly  announced,  upon  handing  them  to  her, 
"were  new  boughten  ones,  with  copy  plate."  Hope  was  at 
her  wits  end.  She  had  not  expected  to  do  much  beside 
organize  her  school  the  first  day,  but  how  was  she  to  do 
this  under  existing  circumstances  ?  She  could  not  classify 
her  scholars  properly,  and  to  hear  them  all  separately 
would  not  only  be  a  great  deal  of  useless  trouble,  but 
would  also  occasion  a  great  loss  of  time.  So  she  wrote 
down  the  names  of  the  books  slie  wanted  on  little  strips  of 
paper,  giving  each  scholar  wlio  needed  books  his  respective 
slip  to  hand  to  his  parents  at  night,  with  the  further 
injunction  to  tell  his  father  or  mother,  as  the  case  might 
be,  "that  she  wanted  the  books  just  as  soon  as  possible." 
Then  she  assigned  each  scholar  his  or  her  respective  desks, 
gave  each  of  the  girls  certain  weeks  to  sweep  the  school- 
room, appointing  assistants,  in  case  of  absence  or  sickness, 
to  take  their  place.  For  the  boys  she  arranged  the  weeks 
for  their  bringing  up  water  from  the  spring  and  bringing 
in  wood  in  a  similar  manner.  She  also  laid  down  certain 
general  rules  for  the  pupils  to  be  governed  by.     These  were 


OR  hope's  first  school.  41 

few  in  number,  and  she  determined  that  they  should  be 
fully  carried  out. 

"  There  is  one  thing  that  I  shall  require  of  you  all,"  she 
said,  "and  that  is  punctuality.  When  the  bell  is  rung  for 
you  to  come  in  school  I  wish  you  to  come  at  once.  Let 
there  be  no  tarrying  on  the  way.  1  shall  endeavor  to  be 
promptly  here  at  my  school  hour,  and  shall  expect  you  to 
do  likewise." 

When  Hope  had, completed  all  her  arrangements  she 
found  by  consulting  her  watch,  which,  luckily  for  her  now, 
not  even  bitter  jDoverty  had  induced  her  to  sell,  that  it  was 
twelve  o'clock,  the  time  for  her  noontide  rest  of  one  hour. 
During  this  recess  she  amused  herself  by  watching  the 
children  at  their  sports,  and  strove,  as  far  as  possible,  to 
learn  something  of  the  disposition  of  each  while  they  were 
comparatively  free  from  the  restraints  of  the  school-room. 
How  easy  a  matter  it  is  at  such  times  to  detect  the  germs 
of  character,  which  will,  if  let  alone,  be  fully  developed 
in  manhood  or  womanhood  !  But  while  their  teacher  was 
studying  the  children,  they  were  studying  her,  and  the 
remarks  they  made  to  each  other  when  out  of  her  hearing 
concerning  her  would  have  provoked  a  smile  on  her  coun- 
tenance had  she  heard  them. 

"She's  too  fine  ladyfied  to  suit  me,"  said  Helen  Hart- 
well.  I  noticed  her  how  she  opened  her  eyes  when  I  sj)elled 
scissors  wrong  this  morning,  jest  as  if  I  had  done  nothing 
but  spell  all  my  life.  I  wish  I  could  see  her  hoe  out  a  row 
of  corn,  I  do.  I  guess  she'd  lind  out  how  I  can  do  some 
things  better  than  she." 

"Hush!"  said  her  sister,  who  was  milder-looking  and 
also  more  prudent  than  Helen,  "you  must  not  talk  so.  I 
think  Miss  Caldwell  is  very  nice  looking." 

"Nice  looking !  I  guess  so,  when  she  has  nothing  to  do 
but  put  on  her  clothes  in  the  morning  and  wear  kid  gloves 
to  keep  her  hands  white.*  I  reckon  I  would  be  nice  looking 


42  TSEIT  AND  KoV  ; 

too  if  I  had  a  plenty  of  clothes  and  no  more  to  do  than 
that/' 

To  a  third  person  this  might  not  have  seemed  so  evident 
a  truth,  as  it  did  to  Miss  Helen  herself,  for  she  was  strik- 
ingly careless  in  those  little  niceties  of  the  toilet  which 
betoken  the  truly  refined  lady.  A  clean  pocket-handker- 
chief could  never  have  come  in  close  contact  with  her  neck 
for  any  length  of  time  without  being  lamentably  damaged 
in  its  appearance,  and  her  hair  looked  as  though  it  had  not 
been  combed  in  a  month.  Some  of  Hope's  scholars,  how- 
ever, had  a  very  different  opinion  of  her  to  that  of  Helen — 
were  indeed  quite  charmed  with  her,  and  child-like  they 
did  not  hesitate  to  express  themselves  very  freely  about 
her  when  to  themselves.  The  hour  seemed  all  too  short  for 
their  chat,  and  when  the  bell  rang  for  them  to  come  back 
in  school  (there  had  been  another  bell  rung  five  minutes 
before  for  them  to  wash  their  hands  preparatory  to  entering 
the  school  room),  some  of  the  children  paid  not  the  slightest 
attention  to  it,  but  lagged  behind  as  long  as  possible,  evi- 
dently expecting  another  summons  ere  they  made  their 
appearance.  But  no  such  summons  came.  Hope  went  on 
very  quietly  with  her  duties,  not  even  speaking  a  word  to 
the  offenders  when,  full  ten  minutes  heliind  time,  they 
sneaked  in  and  took  their  seats.  She  tooJc  notice  of  them, 
however,  and  when  four  o'clock  came  she  looked  at  lier 
watch  and  said  : 

"All  of  you  children  who  came  in  here  at  the  proper 
time  to-day,  and  I  know  exactly  wiiich  of  you  did  so,  may 
now  leave  the  school  room,  taking  care  to  file  out  two  by 
two  and  very  quietly.  But  there  are  six  of  you  who  did 
not  answer  to  my  summons  until  fully  ten  minutes  after  it 
was  given.  Those  six  children  will  remain  in  here  with  me 
until  they  have  made  up  the  time  they  have  lost.  Ten 
minutes  apiece  for  six  children  is  exactly  sixty  minutes 


OR  hope's  first  school.  43 

that  have  been  lost ;  we  will  stay  here  that  long  and  spend 
the  time  in  some  useful  manner." 

A  thrill  of  astonishment  ran  through  the  school  at  these 
calmly,  yet  firmly  spoken  words.  The  scholars  had  before 
made  up  their  minds  that  Hope  would  prove  a  good,  indul- 
gent teacher,  crossing  them  in  nothing — but  they  now  saw 
their  mistake.  One  look  at  her  pale,  determined  face  was 
enough  to  convince  the  hardiest  one  of  them  that  she  was 
not  a  girl  to  be  trifled  with.  Helen  Hartwell,  who  had 
wilfully  and  premeditatedly  violated  her  teacher's  rule,  was 
on  fire  with  indignation.  Her  face  turned  crimson  and  her 
eyes  fairly  blazed.  For  one  moment  she  was  tempted  to 
give  vent  to  her  feelings  by  a  torrent  of  rebellious  words, 
but  an  indefinable  awe  held  her  in  check.  Had  Hope  been 
one  whit  less  dignified,  or  even  seemed  excited  in  the  least, 
the  floodgates  of  Helen's  wrath  would  have  been  opened,  but 
there  was  something  in  the  manner  of  her  teacher  so  dif- 
ferent to  what  she  had  been  accustomed  as  to  completely 
cower  her.  Angry  as  she  was,  she  durst  not  speak.  Nor 
was  Helen  the  only  rebellious  spirit  there.  There  were  five 
others  who  were  highly  indignant  at  the  thought  of  being 
kept  in  an  hour  just  for  losing  a  few  minutes,  yet  not  one 
of  the  number  dared  to  express  his  or  her  thoughts  in 
words. 

For  one  hour  the  young  teacher  instructed  them,  jDartly 
by  reading  aloud  herself,  partly  by  comx')elling  them  to 
read,  in  the  Life  of  Benjamin  Franklin,  who,  she  explained 
to  them  in  the  progress  of  their  reading,  owed  all  of  his 
greatness  to  habits  of  industry,  promptness  and  sobriety. 
Before  the  lesson  was  over,  nearly  all  of  them  had  become 
a  little  interested  in  the  history  of  one  of  America's  greatest 
sons,  and  had  half-forgotten  the  angry  feelings  which  had 
possessed  them  when  they  were  first  required  to  remain  in. 
But  none  of  them  forgot  the  lesson  Hope  had  endeavored 
to  impress  on  their  minds,  and  during  that  session  she  had 
no  farther  trouble  with  them  in  regard  to  i^unctuality. 


44  THEN    AND   NOW  ; 

The  reader  may  well  believe  that  she  did  not  enforce  this 
rule  without  self-sacrifice.  It  cost  her  an  effort  to  compel 
others  to  obedience,  partly  from  being  young  and  inex- 
perienced herself,  but  more  because  she  had  no  natural 
love  of  governing.  With  some  it  is  a  pleasure  to  rule ; 
with  others  it  is  not.  But  duty  and  her  ambition  to  become 
a  good  teacher  prompted  her  to  exact  implicit  obedience  to 
all  of  her  rules. 

Mr.  Watkins'  two  children,  who  had  to  wait  for  Hope 
during  her  extra  hour  in  the  school  room,  informed  their 
jDarents  of  the  cause  of  their  delay.  Mr.  Watkins  laughed 
heartily  at  their  recital  of  it. 

"Never  mind  your  lack  of  experience.  Miss  Ho})e;  if  you 
can  enforce  your  rules  thus  quietly  with  such  children  as 
Helen  Hartwell  and  Sam  and  Joe  Liggins,  there  is  no  fear 
of  failure  on  your  part.  You  have  taken  a  different  course 
from  any  teacher  we  have  had  yet.  Some  have  scolded, 
some  have  beaten,  some  have  contented  themselves  with 
giving  demerit  marks  to  the  scholars  for  disobedience  to 
rules ;  but  while  I  approve  of  all  tliese  punishments, 
scolding  excepted,  I  really  believe  j^ou  have  chosen  the 
wiser  course.  Some  children  do  not  mind  wiiipping,  some 
laugh  at  demerit  marks,  but  there  are  few  indeed  who  do 
not  hate  to  be  confined  in  the  house  after  school  hours. 
Let  them  see,  too,  that  every  sin  carries  its  own  punishment 
with  it,  and  the  lesson  will  not  be  lost  on  them.  Above  all 
though,  it  w^eakens  the  authority  of  a  teacher  to  be 
capricious  in  governing,  allowing  a  rule  to  be  violated  with 
impunity  to-day  and  punishing  its  violation  to-morrow. 
Let  a  child  once  see  that  it  is  for  his  own  good,  and  not  to 
gratify  angry  feelings  that  you  punish  him,  and  he  will  be 
the  better  prepared  to  obey  you  cheerfully." 

Hope  hearkened  to  all  this  good  advice,  but  her  patience 
was  put  sorely  to  the  test  on  the  morrow.  The  parents  of 
some  few  of  the  children  not  only  refused  to  buy  the  books 


OR  hope's  first  school,  45 

she  had  ordered,  but  the  scholars  told  her  little  things 
which  were  said  at  their  homes  concerning  the  books 
which  were  positively  exasperating. 

"Mama  says,"  said  Helen  Hartwell,  "that  if  we  ever 
write  as  good  a  liand  as  the  teacher  who  sot  these  coi^ies 
that  she'll  be  x^erfectly  satisfied." 

"  Pa  says,"  said  Sam  Liggins,  "  that  these  books  is  good 
enough  for  us,  and  that  we'll  be  smart  men  if  we  ever  learn 
all  that's  in  them." 

"Aunt  Rachel  says,"  said  Euphemia  Tyler,  "  that  she 
ain't  in  favor  of  new-fangled  ways  of  teaching,  and  she 
believes  that  the  people  in  old  times  was  better  than  they 
is  now,  any  way." 

What  could  Hope  say  or  do  ?  A  torrent  of  indignant 
blood  rushed  to  her  cheeks,  words  of  withering  sarcasm  to 
her  lips  ;  but  she  choked  back  the  words  and  strove  desper- 
ately for  calmness.  It  was  sometime  ere  she  could  feel  at  all 
composed,  but  she  spoke  not  a  syllable  until  she  was  so,  to 
the  utter  astonishment  of  the  children,  who  had  diverted 
themselves  with  the  idea  of  seeing  her  angry.  She  taught 
on  as  best  she  could  that  day,  listening  to  the  sing-song- 
reading  of  the  childreu  which  she  could  not  at  once  cor- 
rect ;  hearing  spelling  lessons  "in  the  book  and  by  heart ;" 
asking  questions  in  arithmetic  and  overlooking  sums 
wrought  out  on  the  slate  ;  hearing  recitations  in  some  three 
or  four  different  grammars  and  as  many  geographies,  and 
filling  up  six  hours  with  continual  labor  without  any  ade- 
quate result  of  her  toil.  For  Hope  was  not  one  to  content 
herself  with  merely  working  for  wages  ;  she  was  anxious 
that  her  scholars  should  reap  the  benefit  of  that  labor. 
That  night  she  informed  Mr.  Watkins  of  her  morning's 
experience  and  also  unfolded  her  plans  for  the  future 
to  him. 

"  Sooner  than  be  perplexed  and  troubled  as  I  am  by  such 
an  endless  round  of  recitations  to  no  good  purpose,  I  will 


46  THEN   AND   NOW  ; 

procure  the  books  myself  for  all  who  will  not  get  them, 
and  if  they  pay  me  well  and  good  ;  if  not,  I  will  only  lose 
money,  not  heart  and  temper." 

Thus  she  spoke,  and  Mr.  Watkins  informed  her  that  he 
had  all  the  books  she  required  at  his  store  and  would  sell 
them  to  her  at  cost  if  she  wished  it. 

"Still,  Miss  Hoi^e,"  said  he,  1  cannot  say  I  aj^prove  of 
your  plan.  People  should  pay  for  books  for  their  own 
children.  That  which  costs  them  nothing  they  do  not 
appreciate,  and  will  not  thank  you  for." 

''I  know  that  very  well,"  she  replied.  I  am  not  work- 
ing for  thanks  either,  but  simply  to  please  myself  in  this 
matter." 

"Very  well,  you  shall  have  the  books  on  the  terms  I 
promised,  and  at  the  end  of  the  session  you  can  settle 
with  me." 

So  the  books  were  gotten,  the  children  arranged  into  such 
classes  as  Hope  deemed  best,  and  she  began  to  feel  that  her 
school  was  at  last  fairly  started.  The  first  week  passed 
away  quickly  enough,  though  it  was  a  new  era  in  her  life. 
It  was  with  a  sigh  of  relief  that  she  dismissed  the  children 
on  Friday  evening.  Never  had  she  looked  forward  to  a 
day  of  leisure  as  she  now  did  to  the  morrow.  She  sympa- 
thized with  the  children,  who  expressed  their  joy  at  the  pros- 
l)ect  of  a  day's  holiday  by  shouts,  which  were  audible  to 
their  teacher  when  she  was  half  way  home. 

The  evening,  which  was  superlatively  beautiful,  seemed 
like  a  foretaste  of  Elysium,  and,  released  from  the  trials 
and  vexations  of  the  school-room,  Hope's  spirits  went  up 
like  a  balloon.  Her  week  of  toil  had  given  an  exquisite 
charm  to  this  respite  from  daily  labor. 

"Perhaps,  after  all,"  she  said  to  herself,  "the  pleasure 
was  worth  the  sacrifice." 

When  she  arrived  at  Mr.  Watkins'  she  found  a  letter 
there  awaiting  her.     It  was  from  her  mother,  the  first  that 


OR  hope's  first  school.  47 

she  had  received  since  she  left  home.  She  read  it  eagerly, 
rapturously — her  cup  of  joy  seemed  full,  as  she  read  again 
and  again  the  words  of  love  penned  by  a  mother's  hand, 
dictated  by  a  mother's  heart.  Never  had  that  mother 
seemed  so  dear  to  her.  Mrs.  Caldwell  wrote  "that  she 
was  well,  that  cousin  Mary  was  with  her,  and  was  not  only 
a  very  j)leasant  companion,  but  also  a  great  help  to  her. 
Still  she  missed  her  daughter,  though  she  was  glad  that 
she  had  independence  enough  to  wish  to  earn  something 
for  herself.  She  felt  convinced  that  it  was  all  for  the  best ; 
if  it  had  no  other  good  effect,  it  would  be  apt  to  make  home 
dearer  to  her  upon  her  return."  There  was  also  a  box  for 
Hope,  containing  some  unfinished  drawings,  which  slie 
wished  to  work  on  during  her  leisure  moments.  At  the 
sight  of  them  all  the  ambitious  dreams  which  for  one  short 
week  had  been  almost  banished  from  her  mind,  "came 
thronging  back  again"  with  even  more  than  wonted  power, 
and  she  longed  for  the  coming  of  Saturday,  that  she  might 
have  one  day  to  work  at  her  favorite  employment.  But 
scarcely  had  she  begun  her  task  the  next  morning  when 
Willie  knocked  at  her  door,  and  on  being  admitted 
informed  her  that  ' '  Mr.  Daniel  Young  was  in  the  parlor 
and  wished  to  see  her."  It  was  with  intense  regret  that 
Hope  was  forced  to  relinquish  her  loved  emi^loy,  even  to 
entertain  as  handsome  a  fellow  as  Daniel  Young,  but  she 
strove  to  conquer  this  feeling,  and  succeeded  so  well,  in  at 
least  not  letting  it  betray  her  into  discourtesy  or  absent- 
mindedness,  that  Mr.  Young  never  dreamed  of  her  expe- 
riencing aught  save  pleasure  at  his  coming.  She  greeted 
him  pleasantly,  and  crocheting  in  hand,  took  a  seat  oppo- 
site to  him.  As  she  sat  there,  with  fingers  busy  with  her 
work,  conversing  quietly,  and  lending  a  listening  ear  to 
all  that  her  companion  said,  he  would  never  have  thought 
of  her  cherishing  any  ambition  save  that  of  a  pleasant 
settlement  in  life.     Her  manner  on  this  occasion  especially 


48  THEN   AND    NOW  ; 

pleased  him.  He  was  no  great  lover  of  talkative  women, 
and  admired  her  way  of  conversing,  speaking  just  the 
right  thing  at  the  right  time,  leaving  no  gaps  in  the  con- 
versation, yet  equally  as  ready  to  listen  to  others  as  to  talk 
herself.  It  was  this  last  trait  which  particularly  pleased 
him.  Their  chat  this  morning  was  quite  interesting.  He 
was  a  finished  scholar,  a  great  reader,  a  thorough  man  of 
the  world,  and  HojDe  did  not  hesitate  to  ask  him  any  ques- 
tion she  wished  concerning  any  subject  of  which  she  was 
ignorant.  By^thus  ai)pearing  to  acknowledge  him  as  her 
sux^erior  in  some  respects,  the  young  girl  touched  the 
master  chord  of  his  nature — vanity — and  he  became  more 
interested  in  her  than  was  his  wont  with  the  majority  of 
girls.  He  said  to  himself  that  "Hope  Caldwell  was 
decidedly  the  most  interesting  girl  he  had  met  with  for  a 
long  while,  as  well  as  one  of  the  prettiest."  He  exerted 
himself  to  be  entertaining  to  her,  and  in  spite  of  her  first 
regretful  feelings  at  being  taken  from  her  cherished  work, 
Hope  found  herself  really  and  thoroughly  interested  in  his 
chat.     After  the  lapse  of  an  hour  he  said  : 

"Miss  Caldwell,  time  has  flown  so  rapidly  since  I  came 
here  that  I  have  almost  forgotten  the  object  of  my  visit, 
but  I  came  to  see  if  you  would  accompany  me  to  Mrs. 
Stuarfs.  Your  young  friends  are  very  anxious  to  have 
you  come." 

It  required  a  very  vivid  recollection  of  her  original  inten- 
tion  of  finishing  her  drawing  to-day  for  Hope  to  refuse  this 
invitation.  She  pictured  to  herself  all  the  pleasure  she 
would  see  with  her  young  friends,  and  it  did  seem  unrea 
sonable  to  deny  herself  of  every  enjoyment  for  that  which 
after  all  might  not  profit  her.  Then  came  the  recollection 
of  other  duties  which  would  be  neglected  by  her  absence, 
the  neglect  of  which  would  make  her  feel  uncomfortable 
all  through  the  coming  week.  Thinking  over  the  matter  in 
this  light,  she  came  to  her  decision. 


OK  hope's  first  school.  49 

"I  cannot  go  to-day,  Mr.  Young,"  she  said,  "  I  have 
some  work  to  do  that  must  be  attended  to  ere  I  visit  any- 
where. I  thank  you  for  your  kind  invitation,  but  must 
decline  it  for  this  time.  If  you  choose  to  come  some  Sat- 
urday when  I  am  more  at  leisure,  I  will  go." 

"Why  not  defer  your  work  until  next  Saturday  ?  I  am 
very  anxious  for  you  to  go  to-day  and  the  young  ladies 
will  be  disappointed." 

"  Don't  persuade  me,"  she  said,  beseechingly  ;  "  were  I 
to  leave,  knowing  that  I  had  left  undone  things  which  I 
ought  to  do,  I  would  not  enjoy  my  visit.  A  divided  mind 
always  renders  me  unhappy." 

"  I  suppose,  then,  that  you  cannot  carry  your  work  with 
you  ?"  glancing  significantly  at  the  tidy  she  was  crocheting. 

"No,"  was  her  rejily,  "  that  would  be  impossible." 

"  Then,  Miss  Caldwell,  I  must  take  my  departure.  I  am 
very  sorry  that  I  cannot  induce  you  to  accompany  me  to-day, 
but  since  such  is  the  case,  I  will  come  for  you  some  other 
time  if  you  will  promise  to  go.  Suppose  I  come  next  Sat- 
urday ;  will  you  go  then  ?" 

Hope  hesitated  a  moment,  then  replied  that  she  would, 
provided  that  no  unexpected  task  detained  her  at  home. 
"  You  know  how  I  am  situated,  Mr.  Young.  All  of  the 
little  work  I  have  to  do  for  myself,  besides  my  writing, 
etc.,  must  be  done  either  on  Saturday  or  at  night.  So  when 
I  leave  on  Saturday  I  must  make  all  of  my  arrangements 
beforehand,  that  I  may  visit  with  a  clear  conscience." 

"To  be  sure,  Miss  Caldwell,  you  do  not  mean  to  make 
pleasure  entirely  subservient  to  duty,  do  you  ?  You  know 
the  proverb  of  w^hat  '  all  work  and  no  play'  will  do." 

*'Yes,  indeed,"  she  answered,  "and  I  know  also  the 
proverb  of  what  '  all  play  and  no  work '  will  effect,  and  I 
must  confess  that  I  am  very  much  inclined  to  think — I 
speak  of  course  of  those  who  are  perfectly  free  to  act  as 
they  like — that  the  rust  of  indolence  renders jnore  persons 
dull  than  the  wear  of  toil." 


50  THEN  AND  NOW  1 


Mr.  Young  looked  a  little  mortified.  "I  believe,  Miss 
Caldwell,  you  have  ascertained  my  weakness -my  beset- 
ting sin — and  feel  called  upon  to  re]3rove  it." 

"I!''  she  exclaimed,  in  unfeigned  surprise.  ''You 
astonish  me." 

"Yes,"  said  he,  "don't  you  remember  last  Sunday — it 
was  the  honey  bees  and  the  drones,  and  to-day  here  it  is 


again," 


No,"  she  replied,  "you  should  know  better  than  to 
think  of  my  rej)roving  your  sins,  when  I  am  scarcely 
acquainted  with  you — certainly  not  well  enough  to  know 
your  disposition.  Believe  me,  if  aught  savoring  of  sarcasm 
fell  from  my  lij)s  last  Sunday,  it  was  unintentional. 
There  is  nothing  I  dislike  more  than  a  sarcastic  turn,  and 
if  ever  I  feel  called  uj)on  to  reprove  my  friends,  I  shall  do 
^0  plainly^  hnt privately,  and  in  friendship,  not  in  scorn." 

Mr.  Young  looked  at  her  in  utter  surprise.  He  had 
formed  an  oi)inion  of  her  last  Sunday  not  very  favorable  to 
her  sweetness  of  disposition,  though  quite  flattering  to  her 
in  regard  to  her  looks  and  intelligence,  and  now  he  found 
himself  utterly  mistaken  in  his  judgment  of  her.  Instead 
of  the  quick,  sarcastic  being  he  had  imagined  her,  who 
would  render  back  witticism  for  witticism,  and  retort  for 
retort,  she  proved  to  be,  if  a  less  brilliant,  a  far  more 
amiable  person.  He  saw  her  t7i,en  as  one  to  be  admired  ; 
he  viewed  her  7ioio  as  one  to  be  loved  and  sought  after. 
We  mean  in  a  general  sense,  for  he  had  no  thought  of 
loving  any  one,  and  considered  himself  proof  against 
female  charms.  But  something  in  Hope's  manner  inter- 
ested him.  Her  reserve  and  quietness,  her  firmness  in 
refusing  to  leave  duty  for  pleasure,  while  it  vexed  him.  a 
little,  challenged  his  admiration  for  her.  He  left  soon  after 
her  refusal. to  go  with  him  to  Mr.  Stuart's,  and  notwith- 
standing her  solicitations  for  him  to  stay  longer. 

It  must  be  confessed   that  it  was  sometime  ere  Hope 


01^  hope's  first  school.  51 

could  fix  her  mind  upon  her  work  when  she  again  resumed 
it.  She  felt  half  angry  with  herself  for  being  different 
from  other  girls.  "Why  can  I  not  enjoy  myself  like 
others,  without  one  thought  or  care  for  the  future  ?  Some- 
times I  wish  I  was  like  some  other  girls,  with  no  turn 
except  for  domestic  life,  or  with  no  thought  excejDt  of 
beaux,  and  dress,  and  pleasure.  And  yet,  after  all,  I 
wonder  if  their  enjoyment  is  greater  than  mine.''''  She 
stopped  meditating  after  this  and  worked  on  steadily  till 
dinner,  and  after  dinner  until  four  o'clock.  Her  work  was 
nearly  completed  when  she  was  interrupted  again. 

"Mrs.  Moran  and  her  daughter  are  in  the  parlor  and 
wish  to  see  you.  Miss  Caldwell,"  said  Mrs.  VVatkins,  as 
Hope  went  to  the  door  in  answer  to  her  knock  and  invited 
her  in.  The  lady's  eye  fell  upon  the  loainting,  which  Hope 
had  no  chance  to  conceal,  and  her  face  lighted  up  with  un- 
disguised admiration  as  she  surveyed  it. 

"  Is  this  really  your  work.  Miss  Caldwell  ?"  she  inquired; 
"you  have  talent  if  it  is,  and  I  do  not  blame  you  for 
wishing  to  devote  every  spare  moment  to  your  art." 

Hoi)e  besought  her  not  to  speak  of  it,  which  she  promised 
to  do,  though  "for  her  part  she  said  she  w^ould  feel  too 
proud  of  such  paintings  to  wish  to  keep  them  hid." 

"No,"  said  Hope,  "  I  wish  to  attain  perfection,  at  least 
in  my  own  eyes,  before  my  pictures  ever  meet  the  j^ublic 
gaze.  I  mean  to  work  under  a  master  when  my  school  is 
out,  and  then  teach  again,  until  I  can  attend  Cooper's 
Art  Institute,  and  after  awhile  perhaps  I  may  attain  both 
fame  and  fortune." 

"You  are  an  ambitious  girl,"  replied  Mrs.  Watkins, 
kissing  her,  "  and  I,  for  one,  glory  in  your  spirit." 

"Fame  is  all  I  ask  for,"  said  Hope  with  a  half  sigh, 
which  revealed  to  Mrs.  Watkins  something  of  the  girl's 
inner  life.  With  a  woman's  ready  tact,  she  divined  the 
truth  that  our  heroine  had  been  disappointed  in  love — had 
been  foiled  in  her  best  affections. 


52  THEN   AND   NOW  ; 

Mrs,  Moraii  and  lier  daughter  Estelle  were  extremely 
pleasant.  The  daughter  was  tall,  graceful,  stylish-looking, 
with  an  exquisitely  fair  skin,  and  a  very  lively  manner  of 
talking.  The  mother  had  a  low,  sweet  voice,  a  pleasant 
face,  and  was  ever  saying  agreeable  things,  and  was, 
withal,  quite  intelligent  and  interesting. 

Something  was  spoken  of  Mr.  Young.  "Isn't  he  hand- 
some?" inquired  Estelle. 

"Yes,  very,"  replied  Hope.  "I  think  him  quite  pleas- 
ant, too,  as  well  as  the  young  ladies  and  gentlemen  who 
were  with  him  last  Sunday." 

"  Oh,  3^es,"  said  Estelle,  "you  are  speaking  of  Mary  and 
Hattie  Stuart  and  of  Mr.  Nathan  Alison.  He  likes  you 
ever  so  much." 

"Does  he?"  said  Hope  absently,  then  recalling  her 
thoughts  in  a  second,  she  continued  :  "I  am  well  pleased 
with  this  neighborhood  so  far,  and  like  all  the  loeople 
whose  acquaintance  I  have  formed." 

"And  how  do  you  like  teaching,"  inquired  Mrs.  Moran. 
"  I  hear  this  is  your  first  school." 

"I  can  scarcely  tell,"  replied  Hope,  " but  I  try  to  like 
it,  as  I  am  engaged  in  it." 

"  I  admire  that  disposition  very  much,"  said  Mrs.  Moran, 
"for  some  things  we  are  compelled  to  do,  and  if  we  only 
try  to  like  them,  after  awhile,  what  was  once  a  drudgery, 
becomes  an  agreeable  task." 

She  was  merely  stating  a  general  truth,  with  a  view  to 
encourage  Hope,  but  circumstanced  as  the  latter  w^as,  she 
felt  a  little  sensitive  in  regard  to  being  compelled  to  teach. 
Mrs.  Watkins  remarked  the  slight  shadow  on  her  brow 
and  hastened  to  dispel  it  by  saying,  "that  whether  Miss 
Caldwell  fancied  teaching  or  not,  she  should  not  be  allowed 
to  quit  the  profession,  she  seemed  so  eminently  fitted  for  it." 

Hope  nervously  tried  to  change  the  subject  to  something 
less  personal.     Unlike  the  most  of    people,    she  wished 


OR  hope's  first  school.  53 

rather  to  avoid  any  allusion  to  her  profession  than  refer 
to  it.  The  reader  may  judge  from  this  little  incident  of 
how  exquisitely  susceptible  to  suffering  Hope  Caldwell  was, 
and  of  what  an  ordeal  it  was  to  one  of  her  sensitive  turn 
to  fill  the  place  of  a  country  teacher.  For  the  remainder 
of  the  evening  the  time  flew  by  on  fairy  wings.  Estelle 
was  planning  off  one  pleasure  after  another  for  Hope  and 
herself,  while  her  mother,  in  a  more  quiet  manner  than  the 
daughter,  assured  Hope  "that  if  she  would  but  visit  her 
she  would  do  all  in  her  power  to  make  her  stay  agreeable. 
You  must  be  sociable,  Miss  Caldwell,  and  I  think  you  will 
like  this  place.  Our  young  peoj^le  are  very  lively,  and 
nothing  delights  the  heads  of  the  families  around  more 
than  to  promote  the  pleasure  of  their  children  and  of  their 
young  companions.  True[they  are  poorer,  and  have  it  less 
in  their  power  to  live  at  ease  than  in  the  olden  days,  yet 
who  cares  for  that,  so  long  as  hospitality  reigns  supreme?" 

Hope  replied  "that  nothing  would  afford  her  more 
pleasure  than  to  visit  her  new  acquaintances  at  her  earliest 
leisure.  But  you  must  remember,"  said  she,  "that  I  have 
no  day  but  Saturday  to  be  sociable,  and  even  then  I  have 
a  good  deal  of  work  to  do." 

Once  or  twice  was  Mr.  Young's  name  called  in  the  course 
of  their  conversation,  and  Hope  judged  that  he  was  a 
favorite  with  the  young  ladies,  and  probably  spoiled  by 
them.  She  became  in  consequence  just  a  little  prejudiced 
against  him.  She  was  glad  that  she  had  not  accepted  his 
invitation  of  the  morning,  even  apart  from  the  neglect  of 
her  beloved  painting.  "No,"  she  thought,  "she  would 
assure  him  by  her  actions  that  slie  did  not  value  his  atten- 
tion." She  little  dreamed  that  already  she  had,  if  he  was 
vain,  ministered  to  his  vanity  by  asking  information  of 
him.  Then  she  had  praised  him  to  Estelle,  and  should  the 
latter  chance  to  let  him  know  of  it,  Hoipe,  too,  would  be 
enrolled  on  the  list  of  those  who  considered  him  superior 


64  THEN   AND   NOW  ; 

to  the  generality  of  men.  When  Mrs,  Moran  rose  to  depart 
she  kissed  our  heroine,  as  did  Estelle,  insisting  on  her 
visiting  them  at  the  very  earliest  time  possible.  "If  you 
can  spare  no  other  time  I  will  send  for  you  some  evening 
and  you  can  spend  the  night  with  me  and  I  will  have  you 
in  school  betime  in  the  morning,"  she  said.  When  they 
left  the  sun  was  very  nearly  down. 

Hope  went  in  and  arranged  her  apartment  in  perfect  order, 
then  went  out  in  the  Hower  garden  to  gather  bouquets  for 
her  vases  on  the  mantel-piece.  That  night,  just  before 
supper,  she  chanced  to  glance  at  the  mirror  in  her  room 
and  was  amazed  at  the  improvement  in  her  looks.  Abso- 
lutely there  was  color  in  her  cheeks — a  delicate  flush,  which 
beautified  her  face  inexpressibly ;  her  eyes  were  brighter 
than  usual,  her  lips  scarlet,  and  the  white  chrysanthums 
which  she  had  carelessly  arranged  in  her  hair  gave  an 
added  charm  to  the  already  lovely  face.  Hers  was  a  plain, 
brown  dress,  with  a  frill  of  lace  around  the  neck  and  in 
the  sleeves,  and  unrelieved  by  ornament,  save  a  bow  of 
pink  ribbon  at  the  throat ;  yet,  fitting  her,  as  it  did,  to 
perfection,  nothing  seemed  lacking  in  her  attire.  No 
glitter  of  jewels  nor  shimmer  of  silk  or  satin  would  have 
added  one  iota  to  the  simple,  yet  'graceful  dress,  which 
seemed  but  a  part  of  the  graceful  creature  it  adorned. 
Robert  King  looked  at  her  with  undisguised  admiration. 
"  This  place  suits  you,  Miss  Hoj)e,"  he  said,  in  his  frank, 
boyish  way  ;  "  you  have  grown  ten  degrees  prettier  since 
you  came  here.  Perhaps  it  would  be  best  for  you  to  stay 
here  always." 

"Maybe,  after  awhile,  I  might  take  an  opposite  turn," 
said  she,  not  offended  by,  but  a  little  embarrassed  at,  his 
bluntness,   which,   however,  she  excused  on  the  score  of 
youth.     Then  the  conversation  at  the  table  became  general, 
and  joke  and  laugh  went  round. 

They  all  sat  out  on  the  moonlit  piazza  after  supper,  where 


"  OR  hope's  first  school.  66 

they  sang  and  talked  until  bed-time.  Mrs.  Watkins  pos- 
sessed one  of  those  sweet,  plaintive  voices,  v^^hose  melody 
sinks  deep  in  the  heart.  Her  voice  seemed  but  the  index 
of  the  gentle,  amiable  disposition  of  the  lady  to  whom  it 
belonged.  Simple  ballads  or  hymns,  breathing  of  pure 
affection,  or  of  rapt  devotion,  sounded  best  as  sung  by  her. 
And  so  another  Saturday  evening  found  Hope  in  her  new 
home,  better  satisfied,  stronger,  more  self-reliant  and 
happier  than  she  had  been  for  many  years.  The  novelty 
of  her  life,  its  busy  activity,  the  pleasure  of  forming  new 
acquaintances,  and  her  hopeful  looking  forward  to  the 
future,  all  conspired  to  render  her  life  more  enjoyable 
than  heretofore,  notwithstanding  its  cares.  Altogether, 
she  had  no  cause,  so  far,  to  regret  her  venture.  She  wrote 
a  letter  to  her  mother  that  night,  after  the  remainder  of 
the  household  had  retired,  giving  a  full  description  of  her 
life  and  of  the  acquaintances  she  had  formed,  of  the  kind- 
ness she  had  met  with  and  of  her  hopes  for  the  future, 
ending  with  with  these  words  :  "I  hope  and  trust,  dear 
mother,  that  this  may  be  the  beginning  of  a  new  life  with 
both  of  us,  that  all  of  the  gloomy  past  may  be  forgotten 
by  us,  and  that  we  may  be  both  useful  and  happy  in  the 
long  years  which  are  to  come." 


CHAPTER  VI. 


There  was  a  regular  Sunday-school  kept  up  at  the  little 
white  church  near  Mr.  Watkins',  but  Hope  had  not  as  yet 
attended  it.  On  the  Sabbath  morning  after  the  events  we 
have  just  described,  she  arose  in  time  to  put  her  room  to 
rights,  to  take  a  walk  among  the  flowers  and  to  have  a 
merry  chat  with  Robert  King  and  the  children  ere  the  bell 


56  THEN   AND    NOW  ; 

rang  for  breakfast.  After  breakfast  there  was  a  general 
gathering  up  of  Sunday-school  books  and  donning  of  hats 
and  bonnets,  preparatory  to  attending  church;  for  they 
expected  to  remain  until  after  the  sermon  was  over,  as 
there  was  preaching  there  that  Sunday.  Mrs.  Watkins, 
who  was  conscientiously  opposed  to  keeping  a  servant  in 
the  kitchen  cooking  while  she  was  listening  to  the  Word  of 
God  at  church,  had  all  of  her  dinner  prepared  beforehand, 
so  that  there  was  nothing  to  do  during  the  day  and  no  one 
left  at  home. 

Maud  looked  as  sweet  as  a  rosebud  in  her  white  dress, 
looped  with  blue  ribbon,  and  her  little  straw  hat  trimmed 
in  blue.     Hope  was  unmistakably  attractive,  notwithstand- 
ing her  paleness,  and  Mrs.  Watkins  was  a  very  pretty  little 
lady,  and  many  a  stealthy,  admiring  glance  was  cast  on  the 
trio  as  they  walked  up  the  aisle.     During  the   Sunday- 
school  exercises  Hope  strove  to  keep  her  mind  on  the  scene 
before  her,  but  in  spite  of  herself  her  thoughts  would  rove, 
Mary  and  Hattie  Stuart  w^ere  there,   dressed  beautifully, 
together  wdth  Nathan  Alison,  Mrs.  Moran,  Estelle,  and  last, 
but  not  least,  Mr.  Young.     Her  scholars,  too,  were  nearly 
all  present.     She  could  not  realize  that  she  had  taught 
tliem  but  for  one  short  week,   so  familiar  had  each  face 
grown,  though  all  of  them  looked  much  improved  by  their 
Sunday  apparel.     One  face  she  missed  from  the  crowd  ;  it 
was  that  of  Johnnie  Twining.     She  felt  interested  in  his 
welfare  and  regretted  that  he  w^as  not  j)resent,  and  she 
determined  to  inquire  into  the  matter  and  to  use  every  effort 
to  induce  him  to  attend  the  Sabbath-school.     Mr.  Watkins 
came  around  to  her  seat  and  inquired  if  she  would  not 
like  to  take  a  class,  saying  that  one  of  the  teachers  was 
absent,  and  they  would  be  glad  if -she  would  fill  the  place. 
Hope's  first  impulse  was  to  utterly  refuse  to  take  any  part 
in  the  school,  for  did  she  not  teach  five  days  in  the  week, 
and  were  tliere  not   laborers   enough  in  the  vineyard  to 


OE  hope's  first  school.  67 

spare  her?  Then  the  stern  voice  of  conscience,  a  voice 
which  she  could  never  wholly  disregard,  bade  her  "do  what 
her  hands  found  to  do  and  do  it  with  all  her  might;"  and 
hearkening  to  this  voice,  she  replied  quietly — so  quietly 
that  Mr.  Watkins  little  dreamed  of  what  a  sacrifice  it  was 
to  her:  "Yes,  sir,  I  will  take  a  class  as  an  assistant 
teacher,  and  if  I  am  needed  very  much  I  will  teach 
any  way." 

He  showed  her  her  class,  saying,  • '  Miss  Hope,  when  you 
are  absent  Mrs.  Watkins  will  take  charge  of  your  class. 
It  would  not  be  right  for  you  to  feel  in  duty  bound  to  be 
here  when  you  already  have  so  little  time  for  rest  and 
recreation." 

The  singing  pleased  her  very  much.  The  simple  Sunday- 
school  songs  sung  by  so  many  childish  voices  sounded  in^ 
expressibly  sweet  and  charming,  and  our  heroine  felt  an 
interest  that  she  had  never  felt  before  in  children.  Her 
one  short  week  of  teaching  had  invested  childhood  with  a 
new  charm  to  her — had  caused  her  to  feel  a  yearning  desire 
for  the  improvement  of  the  young. 

The  sermon  that  day  was  not  superior  to  many  she  had 
listened  to,  save  in  the  extreme  earnestness  with  which  it 
was  delivered.  The  preacher  seemed  absorbed  in  his 
theme — forgetful  of  himself,  studying  only  the  interest  of 
his  hearers  and  their  eternal  salvation.  He  seemed  very 
young,  his  beardless  face  strangely  inconsistent  with  the 
deep  seriousness  of  his  countenance.  Hope  listened  to 
him  with  pleasure,  and  almost  unconsciously  was  edified 
by  his  sermon. 

After  preaching  was  over  there  was  the  usual  amount  of 
friendly  greeting  and  neighborly  gossip  which  one  hears  at 
a  country  church.  Hope's  new  friends  crowded  around 
her  in  a  most  cordial  manner  and  exx)ressed  their  x^leasure 
in  seeing  her.  Mary  and  Hattie  Stuart  rex)roached  her  for 
not  visiting  them  the  day  beforci 


58  THEIT  AND  NOW  ; 

"We  liad  such  a  nice  time  last  night,"  said  Mary. 
"Hattie  played  on  the  piano,  while  Mr.  Young  accom- 
panied her  with  the  violin,  and  we  absolutely  persuaded 
Mr.  Rodney  Gilbert  to  take  a  part  in  the  concert  by 
blowing  the  flute,  and  really  we  had  a  pleasant  concert." 

"Mr.  Rodney  Gilbert,"  repeated  Hope  mechanically, 
"  I  never  heard  of  him." 

"  'No,  I  sui3i)ose  not,  and  we  who  know  him  seldom  ever 
see  him,  he  is  so  selfish;  but  he  is  very  wealthy,  and  is 
considered  quite  a  catch." 

These  words  haunted  our  heroine.  Did  all  the  world 
judge  by  this  standard,  wealth  and  a  fortunate  combina- 
tion of  circumstances  ?  It  seemed  so,  indeed,  when  under 
the  shadow  of  the  church  walls,  and  scarcely  out  of  hearing 
of  the  Gospel,  one  should  be  held  up  as  a  "good  catch" 
because  he  was  wealthy. 

"I  tell  you  what,"  continued  Mary  in  her  gay,  off-hand 
way,  little  guessing  at  the  thoughts  which  were  passing 
through  Hope's  mind,  "you  will  have  to  do  your  best  to 
appear  to  advantage  when  Mr. '  Gilbert  sees  you,  for  Mr. 
Young  has  described  you  to  him  as  being  but  little  less 
than  an  angel  in  your  appearance  and  disposition." 

"I  trust,"  said  Hope,  a  flush  of  mortiflcation  reddening 
her  cheeks,  "that  if  Mr.  Gilbert  has  formed  a  higher 
opinion  of  me  than  I  deserve,  that  I  will  never  be  so  un- 
lucky as  to  meet  him,  as  I  shall  feel  under  restraint  while 
in  his  company." 

"Never  mind,"  responded  Mary  laughinglj",  seeming  to 
take  no  notice  of  her  companion' s  vexation,  '  •  you  will  be 
sure  to  see  him  just  because  you  do  not  want  to,"  and 
away  she  went  to  another  crowd  of  girls,  chatting  as  gaily 
with  them  as  though  in  a  ball-room.  Mr.  Watkins  came 
around  to  the  spot  where  Hope  was  standing.  He  was 
accompanied  by  the  preacher,  whom  he  introduced  to  her  as 
Mr.  Ransom.     Mr.  Ransom,  though  very  youthful-looking, 


OR  hope's    FIllST   SCHOOL.  59 

was  remarkably  handsome.  He  had,  too,  such  a  quiet, 
pleasant  way  about  him,  and  was  withal  so  destitute  of 
vanity,  that  Hope  liked  him  at  once.  He  accompanied  the 
family  home  that  day,  and  in  the  afternoon,  as  they  sat  out 
on  the  piazza  conversing,  she  enjoyed  his  company  very 
much.  She  found  out  that  as  well  calculated  as  he  was  to 
arouse  his  hearers  to  a  sense  of  their  spiritual  need  while 
exhorting  them  in  the  pulpit,  he  w^as  no  less  powerful  to 
win  them  to  religion  by  the  charm  of  pleasant  and  edify- 
ing conversation  when  in  the  family  circle.  "Love  through 
all  his  actions  tan,"  and  the  gossip  and  evil  speaker  were 
rebuked  by  his  words.  Never  bitter  nor  fault-finding,  the 
mantle  of  his  charity  was  large  enough  to  "  hide  a  multi- 
tude of  sin."  "If  I  have  aught  against  my  neighbor,  I 
shall  tell  him  and  liiin  alone,''^  he  was  wont  to  say. 
"Nothing  is  gained  by  speaking  of  another's  fault  to 
others."  The  consequence  of  this  conduct  was  to  win 
many  to  Christ  and  to  gain  for  himself  legions  of  friends, 
even  among  hardened  sinners.  "Mr.  Ransom  is  a  good 
man,"  they  would  say.  "He  pays  his  debts  punctually, 
is  quiet,  and  is  kind  to  the  poor."  "I  like  him  very 
much,"  was  the  expression  of  opinion  among  even  very 
worldly  people. 

In  the  course  of  conversation  that  evening  Rodney  Gil- 
bert's name  was  mentioned  and  Robert  King  remarked 
that  he  seemed  "very  selfish." 

"  Selfish  !"  replied  Mr.  Ransom  ;  "he  may  seein  so  now, 
but  I  who  went  to  college  with  him  never  met  with  a  more 
generous,  whole-souled  fellow.  He  was  not  partial  to 
preachers  generally,  nor  was  he  fond  of  attending  church, 
but  to  me  has  been  uniformly  kind.  Of  late  years  I  hear 
that  he  is  morose  and  exclusive,  but  there  is  good  in  him 
yet,  depend  upon  it.  Some  day  I  hope  to  see  him  'a 
burning  and  shining  light  in  the  church  of  the  living  God.'  " 

"Charity  hopeth  all  things,"  was  the  text  that  involun- 


60  THEN   AND   NOW  ; 

tarily  came  into  Hope's  mind  as  he  said  this,  and  then  she 
thought  "  this  Kodney  Gilbert  must  be  a  very  distinguished 
personage  in  this  vicinity,  but  pshaw  !  it  is  money  alone 
which  makes  him  so  ;  that  is  the  lever  which  moves  the 
world  nowadays." 

Mr.  Ransom's  request  that  they  would  sing  a  hymn 
before  his  departure  recalled  her  wandering  thoughts,  and 
when  he  had  taken  leave  of  the  family,  Robert  King  jDro- 
posed  for  them  all,  that  is,  for  Hope,  the  children  and 
himself  to  walk  down  to  the  mill.  "It  is  such  a  j^retty 
place.  Miss  Hope  ;  there  are  some  lovely  flowers  there,  apd 
a  spring  of  mineral  water." 

So  Hope  consented  to  go.  Mr.  Twining' s  home  was 
between  Mr.  Watkins'  and  the  mill,  and  as  they  pa  sed 
Hope  noticed  Mr.  Ransom' s  horse  tied  at  the  gate.  Glancing 
in  the  house,  she  beheld  a  scene  which  was  never  forgotten 
by  her.  The  whole  room  seemed  in  disorder  ;  Mr.  Twining, 
with  blood-shot  eyes  and  unkempt  hair,  was  sitting  on  a 
wooden  stool,  Mrs.  Twining  in  equally  as  slatternly  a 
plight  on  another,  while  Mr.  Ransom  had  Johnnie  drawn 
close  to  him,  and  was  conversing  with  him  in  so  earnest  a 
manner  as  to  render  even  the  child  oblivious  to  passers  by, 
and  the  little  party  went  on  their  way  unheeded. 

"  Do  you  know  what  he  is  there  for  f  inquired  Robert, 
after  they  had  passed. 

"No,"  she  replied,  not  in  particular.  Is  Mr.  Twining 
one  of  his  members?" 

"  One  of  his  members  !"  repeated  her  companion,  laugh- 
ingly ;  he's  one  of  the  greatest  sots  in  this  country,  and  his 
wife  is  not  much  better,  but  Mr.  Ransom  is  one  of  the  men 
who  cherishes  the  hope  that  the  vilest  sinner  can  be 
reclaimed.  What  he  wants  now  is  to  get  Johnnie  Twining 
in  the  Sunday-school.  His  parents,  of  course,  will  get 
interested  in  his  progress,  and  will  be  apt  to  come  too. 
The  next  thing  you  know  they  will  be  attending  church 


OR  hope's  first  school.  61 

regularly,  and  perhaps  in  the  far  future  the  whole  family 
may  become  Christians.  Mr.  Ransom  is  certainly  one  who 
does  not  neglect  the  poor  ;  why,  sometimes  he  even  lectures 
the  rich  for  dressing  so  finely  when  they  attend  church, 
because,  he  says,  it  prevents  the  x^oor  from  coming." 

''He  is  right,''  said  Hope,  something  like  a  tear  glisten- 
ing in  her  eye  ;  it  would  be  well  if  all  ministers  copied  his 
example." 

"I  don't  know,"  said  Robert,  it  does  seem  a  condescen- 
sion in  a  man  of  Mr.  Ransom's  talent  to  go  to  such  a  house 
as  Mr.  Twining' s,  yet  this  is  but  one  of  the  many 'visits  he 
pays.     It  must  be  a  great  sacrifice  to  him," 

"  Yet  even  the  Saviour  ate  with  publicans"and  sinners," 
said  Hope,  "and  He  has  given  us  an  example  that  we 
should  walk  in  his  steps." 

"Are  you  a  member  of  the  church,  Miss  Hox^e  ?"  he 
inquired. 

"No sir,"  she  replied,  "but  if  I  do  not  perform  my  duty, 
at  least  I  have  my  idea  of  what  it  is." 

"So  much  the  worse  for  you,"  said  he,  laughinglj', 
anxious  to  change  the  subject.  '  Ye  knew  your  duty,  but 
ye  did  it  not.'  " 

"You  have  read  Pollok,  have  you  ?"  she  asked. 

"Yes,  and  it  gave  me  the  blues  for  a  week  after.  I 
believe  in  enjoying  life.  Miss  Hope,  and  not  troubling  our- 
selves about  the  future." 

Hope  was  silent.  She  was  worldly,  yet  in  her  inmost 
heart  she  cherished  the  conviction  that  a  Christian  is  the 
only  truly  happy  person  upon  earth,  and.  sometimes  she 
had  thought  seriously  of  becoming  one,  but  the  good  seed, 
so  far,  had  been  choked  with  thorns.  The  walk  Robert 
had  chosen  was  indeed  a  lovely  one.  The  evening  was 
delightful.  It  was  just  cool  enough  to  be  pleasant,  though 
the  sun  had  shone  with  summer  fierceness  at  noon,  the 
trees  in  yellow  and  j)urple  and  scarlet,  varied  by  every  tint 


62  THEN   AND   NOW  ; 

it  was  possible  to  conceive  of,  were  gorgeous  in  the  extreme, 
and  the  flowers  growing  along  the  wayside  had  all  the 
warmth  and  richness  of  color  peculiar  to  autumnal  flowers. 
The  mill-dam  bore  the  appearance  of  a  long  avenue,  over- 
shadowed by  trees  of  varied  kinds  and  sizes,  while  the 
water  of  the  pond  stretched  away  like  a  mimic  lake, 
reflecting  in  its  depths  the  azure  sky,  until,  falling  over  the 
floodgates  in  showers  of  foam,  it  seemed  a  miniature 
cataract.  The  scene,  though  neither  sublime  nor  striking, 
was  lovely  in  the  calm  hush  of  the  Sabbath  evening,  and 
no  one  could  appreciate  it  more  than  our  heroine.  She  sat 
down  on  a  stick  of  timber  left  on  the  mill-dam,  and  looked 
away  musingly  to  the  sunset  sky,  now  golden  with  the 
glow  of  the  departing]  monarch  of  day,  and  for  some 
minutes  she  was  profoundly  silent. 

''Of  what  are  you  thinking?"  asked  her  cortipanion, 
after  watching  her  for  some  time  admiringly,  yet  impa- 
tiently, for  he  was  anxious  to  hear  her  talk. 

"I  am  thinking,"  said  she,  without  questioning  his 
right  to  ask  such  a  question,  "  of  how  happy  life  would  be 
were  it  always  as  quiet  and  peaceful  as  the  scene  before  us." 

"  Yes,"  said  he,  "but  it  would  lack  variety  ;  we  would 
soon  tire  of  its  sameness.  You  remind  me  of  Mr.  Rodney 
Gilbert,  Miss  Hoi^e  ;  he  is  always  moralizing  in  some  such 
way." 

''Mr.  Gilbert  must  be  a  distinguished  person  around 
here,"  remarked  Hope,  "I  have  heard  him  spoken  of  so 
often." 

"Yes,"  replied  her  companion,  a  little  bitterness  per- 
ceptible in  his  tone,  "he  is  very  well  off,  you  see.  He 
owns  the  finest  plantation  and  most  beautiful  house  in  the 
county,  and  has  means  to  come  and  go  as  he  likes.  He  has 
been  to  Europe  several  times.  All  the  young  ladies  around 
are  setting  their  caps  for  him." 

' '  I  believe  I  should  hate  him  were  I  ever  to  meet  with 
him,"  she  remarked. 


OE  HOPE'S  FIRST  SCHOOL.      "  63 

"Why,"  inquired  Robert. 

"Because  I  imagine  liim  an  intolerably  vain,  selfish  per- 
son ;  one  who  expects  the  world  to  overlook  in  him  faults 
that  would  be  condemned  in  a  poor  man.'' 

"Upon  my  word,'^  remarked  her  companion,  "  I  do  not 
know  but  that  you  are  right,  althoijgh  I  must  confess  that 
Mr.  Gilbert  has  always  been  kind  to  me ; .  has  even 
befriended  me  once  or  twice  when  I  was  in  bitter  need," 

"Of  course,"  she  replied,  "he  may  not  be  destitute  of 
good  qualities,  yet  few  people  indeed  can  withstand  the 
flattery  which  the  world  ever^gives  to  the  fortunate.  I 
scarcely  know  which  is  best  for  the  character,  to  be  ex- 
tremely rich  or  extremely  poor.  Extreme  wealth  is  apt  to 
beget  an  overbearing  disposition,  and  extreme  poverty  is 
liable  to  make  one  sour,  discontented  and  envious.  ■  'Agur's 
prayer  is  a  good  one,  even  now." 

"  Well,"  said  Robert,  "for  my  part  I  would  much  prefer 
to  take  the  wealth  and  run  all  risks." 

"  That  is  quite  a  natural  reflection,  yet  I  say  to  you  that 
you  are  already  rich." 

"In  what  respect  V  inquired  her  companion. 

"Rich  in  your  youth,  in  your  health,  in  having  a  good 
mind,  and  in  being  a  man  instead  of  a  poor  girl.  All  occu- 
pations are  open  to  you  ;  there  is  nothing  to  bar  your 
progress  except  incapacity  or  wilful  neglect  of  business  ; 
while  to  a  woman  but  few  professions  are  open,  and  those 
few  are  overcrowded." 

Robert  laughed.  "Miss  Hope,  you  are  like  no  young 
lady  I  ever  saw.  I  believe  you  always  have  something  im- 
portant on  your  mind." 

"Yes,"  she  responded,  "I  am  naturally  of  an  earnest 
turn,  for  you  know  that  life  itself  is  '  real  and  earnest ;' 
but  I  trust  I  am  not  so  earnest  as  to  be  boring ;  if  so,  let 
us  change  the  subject,"  and  for  the  rest  of  the  way  con- 


64  '  THEN   AND    NOW  ; 

versation  took  sucli  a  different  turn,  and  Hope  was  so  lively 
and  entertaining,  that  Robert  found  himself  marveling  at 
the  versatility  of  her  talents  and  the  changeable  turn  of  her 
disposition,  v^hile  she  was  wondering  who  Rodney  Gilbert 
was  like,  and  half-wishing  to  see  him,  notwithstanding 
what  she  had  said  in  regard  to  hating  him. 


CHAPTER  YIL 


It  did  not  require  two  weeks'  experience  in  teaching  to 
convince  our  heroine  that  the  way  of  a  faithful,  conscien- 
tious teacher  is  not  one  strewn  with  thornless  flowers.  We 
have  already  attempted  a  brief  description  of  some  of  the 
difficulties  which  beset  her  during  the  week  when  her 
school  began.  The  Monday  afterward  was  one  of  sore 
trial  in  the  school-room.  Two  days  holiday  had  rendered 
the  children  forgetful  of  their  duty,  and  there  was  a  long 
list  of  imperfect  lessons,  which  were  laid  aside  to  be 
studied  and  recited  during  the  noon  recess.  This,  of 
necessit}^,  forced  Hope  to  remain  in  the  school-room  with 
the  delinquents,  and  during  this  time  some  of  the  scholars 
who  were  out  at  play  got  into  a  glorious  fight.  It  was 
Johnnie  Twining  who,  with  dilated  eyes  and  voice  half- 
choked  with  excitement,  ran  to  inform  Miss  Hope  "that 
Joe  and  Sam  Siggins,  George  and  Tom  Simmons  w^ere 
fighting  as  hard  as  ever  they  could.'' 

"Tell  them,"  said  Hope,  as  calmly  as  she  could,  "to 
come  here  immediately." 

Away  went  Johnnie  to  the  scene  of  action,  but  returned 
at  once,  informing  her  that  "  the  boys  said  they  wouldn't 
come,  for  they  did  not  believe  a  word  he  told  them." 


OR  hope's  first  school.  65 

Donning  her  hat  as  quickly  as  possible,  and  mastering 
her  excitement,  for  it  could  not  be  denied  that  she  was 
excited,  Hope  proceeded  to  the  field  of  battle.  The  four 
lads  were  in  active  contest.  Sam  had  thrown  Greorge  upon 
the  ground  and  was  pounding  him  with  his  fists.  The 
boy's  tow  hair  was  disheveled,  his  face  bruised  and  his 
nose  bleeding,  but  he  showed  no  sign  of  surrender.  Joe 
and  Tom  were  struggling  desperately,  neither  seeming  to 
have  any  advantage  of  the  other,  though  their  torn  jackets 
and  generally  demoralized  appearance  bore  witness  to  the 
ferocity  with  which  they  had  been  fighting,  and  the  dis- 
torted countenance  of  the  whole  group  betokened  the 
demon  raging  within.  Hope  surveyed  them  for  one  moment 
before  she  spoke.  Then,  with  a  calmness  which  was  at 
utter  variance  with  her  feelings,  she  said  : 

"Boys,  will  you  oblige  me  so  much  as  to  desist  from 
this  conduct?" 

They  stopx:)ed  immediately,  but  stood  eyeing  each  other 
vengef  uUy,  ready  to  renew  the  battle  at  the  earliest  oppor^ 
tunity.  But  angry  as  they  were,  they  stood  in  awe  of 
Hope.  There  always  seemed  to  them,  though  they  could 
not  explain  it,  a  reserved  force  behind  her  quietly  spoken 
commands.  "I'm  not  afraid  of  that  little,  weak  woman, '^ 
each  one  had  said  when  out  of  her  sight,  yet  Mr.  Liggins^ 
stentorian  voice  or  Mrs.  Simmons'  loudest  scolding,  backed 
by  the  stoutest  hickory  that  either  could  find,  had  no  such 
power  over  them  as  did  their  teacher's  gently  si^oken 
commands.  The  will  to  do  and  to  dare  was  there,  and 
they  felt  it. 

"It  was  George  Simmons  who  begun  it,"  said  Sam 
Liggins.  "  He  called  me  a  liar,  and  I  won't  take  that  from 
anybody." 

"It  wan'tj  Miss  Caldwell,  it  was  Joe  and  Sam;  they 
called  us  'poor  bocker'  and  'poor  white  folks,'   and  we 


66  THEN  AND  NOW 


5 


won't  take  that,  and  I  did  tell  liim  he  was  a  liar  for 
saying  so." 

"  Never  mind,"  said  she,  and  now  that  the  difficulty  had 
arisen,  she  really  felt  a  kind  of  gladness  that  she  was 
equal  to  the  emergency — a  moral  strength  and  power 
which  did  her  positive  good;  "never  mind,  boys,  come 
with  me  back  to  the  school-room  and  I  will  decide  your 


case." 


Eeluctantly  enough  they  followed  her  footsteps.  They 
were  still  sullen  and  full  of  bitter,  revengeful  feelings 
against  each  other.  For  some  time  she  investigated  the 
case,  examining  the  witnesses  on  either  side,  one  at  a  time, 
anxious  to  arrive  at  the  truth.  But  this  she  found  it  very 
hard  to  do.  The  evidence  was  so  contradictory  as  to 
require  a  much  sharper  lawyer  than  Hope  to  judge  of  the 
case,  though  she  could  see  very  plainly  that  both  parties 
were  somewhat  to  blame.  She  talked  to  them  for  awhile, 
in  the  gentlest  manner,  of  the  evils  of  discord,  of  the  sin 
of  quarrelling  and  fighting,  relating  one  or  two  incidents 
to  them  where  fatal  effects  had  followed  the  giving  away  to 
passion. 

When  in  her  quiet  way  of  talking  she  had  moved  the 
offenders  to  real  penitence,  she  concluded  by  saying: 
"  You  boys  know  it  is  against  the  rules  of  the  school  to 
fight,  and  I  am  compelled  to  punish  the  violation  of  my 
rules,  however  much  I  may  dislike  to  do  so.  I  do  not  feel 
disposed  to  whip  you.  though,  or  to  expel  you  from  school, 
but  you  must  remain  in  at  recess  for  five  days  and  study 
the  life  of  some  good  and  peaceable  man.  I  will  select 
that  of  William  Penn." 

"Miss  Hope,  if  you  will  just  give  me  a  good  whipping 
and  let  me  go,  I  will  thank  you,"  said  Sam. 

"  So  will  I,  so  will  I,"  said  each  of  the  other  boys. 

But  she  would  not  consent  to  this.  "  No,  I  will  do  as  I 
have  said,"  she  replied. 


OR  hope's  first  school.  67 

Every  day,  for  five  days,  she  read  to  tbem  from  the 
history  of  tlie  great  Quaker,  requiring  them  to  answer 
questions  on  what  she  read,  and  instructing  them  in  regard 
to  the  meaning  of  it.  She  tried  to  impress  upon  their 
minds  the  important  truth  that  it  is  easier  to  win  hearts  by 
kindness  than  to  make  others  submissive  to  us  after  we 
have  once  gained  their  ill  will  by  harsh  treatment ;  told 
them  of  how  peaceably  and  happily  the  Quakers  had 
lived,  even  when  surrounded  by  savage  Indians,  because 
they  were  good  to  them,  while  other  colonists  who  pursued 
an  opposite  course  had  their  homes  burned  down  and  their 
own  lives  and  those  of  their  families  sacrificed  on  account 
of  their  own  folly  and  wickedness.  It  was  a  lesson  which 
was  never  forgotten  by  the  children.  Poor  and  ignorant 
they  might  be,  but  they  had  human  hearts  beating  in  their 
bosoms,  and  Hope  had  found  the  key  to  them.  During  the 
remainder  of  the  session  there  was  not  another  fight  in 
school.  Some  of  the  scholars  were  well  trained  at  home, 
and  had  even  been  to  school  enough  to  be  pretty  well  ad- 
vanced in  their  studies,  but  some  of  them  were  deplorably 
ignorant.  Johnnie  Twining,  whom  Hoj^e  expected  to  find 
an  unruly  child,  had  so  far  proved  exactly  the  opposite. 
He  had  learned  to  love  his  teacher  very  dearly,  and  though 
untrained  to  a  degree  that  utterly  surprised  her,  was  never 
unruly.  But  that  a  child  born  in  a  Christian  land,  and  in 
a  stone's  throw  of  the  church,  should  know  nothing  of 
God  or  of  his  soul — nothing  of  those  great  truths  which 
had  become  so  thoroughly  a  part  of  her  existence  that  she 
could  not  remember  when  she  had  learned  them— this  was 
a  matter  of  utter  astonishment  to  our  heroine.  ''  We  need 
some  one  to  teach  the  first  principles  of  religion  at  home  as 
well  as  in  foreign  lands,"  thought  she.  That  girls  fourteen 
years  old  knew  no  more  of  George  Washington  than  if  he 
were  a  Chinee,  (the  historical  George  Washington  we 
mean,   for  all  knew  George  Washington   Simmons,)  had 


68  THEN    AND   NOW  ; 

never  heard  of  Christopher  Columbus,  were  in  utter  dark- 
ness in  regard  to  every  matter  of  history,  was  a  source  of 
very  painful  surprise  to  her,  yet  sometimes  it  touched  her 
sense  of  the  ludicrous  very  strongly.  The  children,  it 
seemed  to  her,  were  gifted  in  saying  mirth- provoking 
things,  in  making  droll  remarks  which  caused  her  to  laugh 
heartily  whenever  she  thought  of  them.  There  was  a 
bright  as  well  as  a  dark  side  to  her  school  life.  She  felt  an 
interest  in  the  progress  of  the  children  ;  she  watched  them 
as  narrowly  as  she  had  ever  done  her  own  work  on  a 
favorite  sketch.  Their  dispositions,  too,  she  studied  care- 
fully, and  strove  to  find  the  key  to  every  heart,  for  of  one 
thing  she  was  thoroughly  convinced — that  if  a  teacher  fails 
to  secure  the  good  will,  if  not  the  affection  of  a  scholar, 
there  is  but  a  small  chance  for  the  latter  to  learn.  There 
must  be  perfect  respect  for  a  teacher,  and  kind  feelings 
toward  one,  ere  there  is  a  willingness  to  study  under  his  or 
her  guidance.  "  After  all,"  thought  Hope,  "  is  not  teach- 
ing a  nobler  work  than  painting,  or  sculjoture  ?  The  one, 
intended  merely  to  gratify  the  aesthetic  feelings  of  our 
nature  ;  the  other,  to  train  up  in  '  ways  of  wisdom '  the 
immortal  beings  whose  everlasting  destiny  may  hinge  on 
the  instruction  received  from  their  teachers."  She  felt  tlie 
grandeur  of  her  work,  but  she  felt,  too,  its  heavy  responsi- 
bility. And  so  struggling  on,  alternately  discouraged  by 
failure  or  cheered  by  success  in  her  plans,  the  second  week 
of  her  school  life  passed  away.  Before  the  beginning  of 
another  week  her  thoughts  were  diverted  from  school  and 
school  life  by  events  which  we  will  now  relate. 


OR  hope's  first  school.  60 


CHAPTER  VIII. 


True  to  his  appointment  with  Hope,  Mr.  Young  came  on 
Saturday  morning  to  accompany  her  to  Mr,  Stuart's.  She 
had  contrived,  by  working  diligently  at  every  moment  that 
she  could  command,  to  accomplish  all  the  little  tasks  which 
she  had  allotted  to  herself  to  do,  and  it  was  with  a  light 
heart  that  she  rode  off  with  her  escort.  The  air  was  cool, 
there  was  enough  frost  to  render  it  exhilarating,  and  the 
sun  shone  brightly  over  the  Autumn  landscape.  Riding 
swiftly  through  the  bracing  atmosphere,  and  in  such 
pleasant  companionship,  it  was  no  marvel  that  the  time  fled 
swiftly  away,  both  to  Hope  and  to  her  escort,  and  it  was 
with  a  feeling  of  slight  regret  that  they  came  in  sight  of 
their  place  of  destination. 

Mr.  Stuart's  house  was  a  large,  white,  two -story  one, 
which,  from  the  multitude  of  its  windows  and  from 
its  long,  airy  piazzas,  gave  one  the  impression  that  it 
was  an  agreeable  summer  residence,  whatever  might  be 
its  disadvantages  in  the  winter  season.  It  was  sur- 
rounded by  n  noble  grove  of  oaks,  with  a  cleared  place 
immediately  in  front  of  it  for  the  semi-circular  flower 
yard.  This,  together  w^ith  the  sight  of  a  great  variety  of 
house  plants  in  pots  on  the  sunny  piazza,  left  one  in  no 
doubt  as  to  the  refined  tastes  of  the  inmates  of  the  dwell- 
ing. Mary  and  Hattie  were  standing  on  the  steps  as  Mr. 
Young  drove  up.  They  were  arrayed  in  exceedingly 
becoming  costume  and  looked  as  fresh  and  sweet  as  two 
rosebuds.  They  hurried  down  the\  steps,  and  part  the  way 
down  the  paved  walk  to  meet  the  visitors,  kissed  Hope 
affectionately  and  welcomed  her  so  cordially  as  to  make 


70  THEN   AND   NOW  } 

her  feel  at  home  at  once.  After  showing  Mr.  Young  into 
the  parlor,  they  invited  her  upstairs  into  a  large,  airy, 
well-furnished  bed-room,  where  she  laid  aside  her  bonnet 
and  shawl  and  arranged  her  hair.  Then  they  all  descended 
to  the  parlor,  w^hich  was  not  only  elegantly  furnished,  but 
was  so  exquisite  in  all  its  appurtenances  as  to  show  tliat 
refined  and  cultivated  taste  had  gone  hand-in-hand  with  a 
free  use  of  means  in  its  adornment.  The  numerous  little 
embellishments -the  work  of  female  fingers,  trifling  in 
themselves,  yet  giving  a  finishing  touch  to  the  whole  apart- 
ment— were  not  tl)e  least  of  its  attractions.  The  two  girls 
were  busy  now,  one  in  crocheting  a  shawl  of  crimson 
zephyr,  the  other  in  working  a  cover  for  a  footstool.  Hope 
felt  thankful  that  she  had  brought  some  embroidery  with 
her  and  was  not  compelled  to  sit  idle  while  her  companions 
were  at  w^ork.  Tongues,  though,  were  flying  as  fast  as 
fingers.  The  girls  compared  work,  each  admiring  the  article 
the  other  was  making.  There  was  a  play  of  merry  chat 
and  badinage,  drifting  occasionally  into  more  serious  dis- 
course ;  but  though  the  young  ladies  were  well  educated 
and  intelligent,  they  were  too  full  of  fun  to  dwell  long  on 
any  subject  which  required  serious  thought. 

During  the  morning  Mr.  Young  and  two  gentlemen 
cousins  were  the  only  guests,  beside  Hojie,  and  as  they 
were  all  quite  easy  in  their  manner,  and  sensible  enough 
not  to  be  boring  in  conversation,  the  youthful  crowd  en- 
joyed themselves  very  well.  Mr.  Stuart,  a  portly,  middle- 
aged  gentleman,  came  in  now  and  then  and  w^as  quite 
agreeable.  His  wife,  "  on  household  cares  intent,'-  entered 
the  room  but  once  before  dinner.  Mr,  Young  amused  the 
crowd  by  reading  short  pieces  from  a  book  of  poems,  while 
Edgar  Stuart,  who  was  a  great  mimic,  had  them  almost 
convulsed  with  laughter  at  his  clever  imitations  of  a  very 
eccentric  person  in  the  neighborhood.  His  frank,  hearty 
manners,  overflowing  with  mirth  and  fun,  were  universally 
popular. 


OR  hope's  first  school.  71 

The  twelve  o'clock  dinner  was  not  only  an  enjoyable  one 
from  the  richness,  j)lenty  and  variety  of  its  well- cooked 
viands,  but  derived  an  additional  relish  from  the  easy  flow 
of  conversation  during  the  repast — the  laughter  and  play 
of  wit  around  the  social  board.  Hope  felt  that  the  day  was 
passing  all  too  swiftly. 

After  dinner  the  gentlemen  went  out  on  the  piazza  to 
smoke  and  the  girls  betook  themselves  to  their  room. 
Mary  and  Hattie,  who  had  sat  up  late  the  preceding  night, 
lay  down  for  a  short  nap,  while  their  companion  amused 
herself  by  reading  Tennyson.  After  tliey  awoke  and  had 
re- arranged  their  toilets,  all  went  down  again,  and  while 
Hattie  and  Mary  played  duets  on  the  grand  piano,  Hope 
occupied  herself  in  studying  the  paintings  hung  against 
the  wall.  "Innocence,"  represented  by  a  lovely  babe, 
grasping  at  the  flame  of  a  candle,  its  face  radiant  with 
delight,  was  a  splendidly  planned  and  well  executed  pic- 
ture. "Aurora,"  with  flying  steeds  and  rosy  mantle,  on 
which  glittered  one  or  two  stars,  and  attended  by  the 
Hours,  was,  too,  a  line  painting.  "Fondly  Gazing"  pic- 
tured a  mother  bending  over  the  couch  of  her  lovely,  slum- 
bering boy,  while  its  companion,  "The  Empty  Cradle," 
showed  the  same  mother  agonizing  over  the  loss  of  her 
child,  whose  empty  cradle  betokened  that  he  had  gone 
from  her  sight  forever.  Hope  admired  them  all  very  much 
and  again  was  her  ambition  to  excel  in  her  art  awakened 
with  fresh  intensity. 

Mr.  Young  and  the  two  Messrs.  Stuart  invited  the  girls 
to  take  a  ride  with  them  on  horseback  that  evening.  Hoj)e 
w^as  but  little  accustomed  to  this  exercise,  but  as  she  had 
dearly  loved  it  during  her  father's  life  time,  she  made  no 
opi)osition  to  the  request  except  to  tell  them  that  "she 
had  no  riding  habit." 

"  Never  mind  that,"  said  Hattie  Stuart,  "I  have  two  and 
I  can  lend  you  one  of  them,  and  j^our  black  hat  with 
plumes  will  do  plenty  w^ell  to  wear." 


72  THEN   AND   NOW  ; 

So  it  was  arranged  that  they  should  go.  Mr.  Young 
rode  with  Hattie,  Willie  Stuart  with  his  cousin  Mary, 
while  Edgar  went  with  Hope.  Though  feeling  a  little 
awkward  at  first,  she  soon  became  accustomed  to  the  exer- 
cise, and  did  so  well,  that  her  companion  complimented 
her  on  her  skill  in  riding. 

"I  believe  you  have  not  been  in  this  part  of  the  country 
long,  Miss  Caldwell  ?"  he  remarked. 

"  About  three  weeks,"  was  her  reply. 

"I  suppose  you  crossed  the  Neuse  river  in  coming,  but 
here  it  is  again,"  said  he,  as  they  neared  a  bridge  across 
that  stream.  They  stood  still  a  moment  watching  it,  but 
at  this  point  the  view  was  neither  picturesque  nor  interest- 
ing, though  Mr.  Stuart  informed  Hope  that  "in  the  Spring 
it  was  really  delightful  to  trace  its  windings,  so  green  and 
fresh  were  the  trees  which  fringed  its  banks." 

"You  are  something  of  a  poet,  I  expect,"  said  she, 
"  and  are  never  at  a  loss  to  discover  beauty  in  anything." 

"No,  indeed,"  he  replied;  I  am  but  a  plain,  plodding 
farmer,  and  really  feel  thankful  to  Heaven  that  I  am  not 
cursed  with  so  fatal  a  gift  as  i)oetry  or  music." 

"Y^ou  surprise  me,"  said  she.  "Few  people  would 
speak  in  this  manner." 

"  I  have  a  friend,"  he  replied,  "who  has  taught  me  a 
lesson  in  this  respect.  I  believe  that  this  gift  has  been  the 
blight  of  his  life.  His  ideas  of  perfection  are  so  high,  his 
nature  so  intensely  sensitive,  that  he  suffers  where  ordinary 
mortals  would  enjoy  themselves." 

"Yet  perhaps  he  sees  pleasure  where  others  do  not,"  she 
answered.  "I  would  like  to  see  a  real,  live  poet.  I  never 
knew  one  in  my  life." 

An  amused  smile  swept  over  Edgar  Stuart's  face,  but  he 
made  no  reply  to  this  last  speech.  Somehow  they  had 
gotten  separated  a  considerable  distance  from  the  rest  of 
the  crowd,  who  had  ridden  on  without  stopping,  and  now 


OR  hope's  first  school.  73 

they  rode  a  little  faster  to  get  near  them.  The  rapid  motion 
prevented  them  from  talking  much,  but  once  more  with 
their  companions,  there  was  a  merry  interchange  of  words 
and  gay  laughter,  whose  cause  could  be  traced  to  nothing 
except  that  they  all  felt  well  and  were  enlivened  by  the 
healthy  exercise.  Mr.  Young,  though  riding  with  Miss 
Stuart,  often  turned  to  speak  to  Hope,  until  the  former 
lady  felt  half  offended  at  his  indifference  to  herself.  Hope 
noticed  this  and  appeared  so  absorbed  in  Mr.  Stuart's  con- 
versation as  to  give  Mr.  Young  no  chance  to  address  her 
without  a  breach  of  etiquette  on  his  part,  and  so  Miss 
Stuart's  equanimity  was  restored.  Mr.  Young  then  deter- 
mined to  pique  our  heroine  by  a  show  of  devotion  to 
Hattie,  but  he  was  never  more  baffled  in  his  life.  The  most 
skillful  observer  could  not  have  told  that  Hope  had  any 
favorite  in  the  crowd,  if  indeed  she  had.  While  riding 
with  Edgar,  she  was  all  attention  to  him,  but  once  more  at 
the  house,  she  was  chatting  and  laughing  with  all  alike. 
Towards  sundown  the  young  men  rode  off  to  the  post- 
office,  a  mile  distant. 

"I  wish  Mr.  Rodney  G-ilbert  had  come  to-day,''  said 
Hattie  Stuart,  after  they  had  taken  their  departure.  "I 
asked  him  to  do  so,  but  he  made  some  excuse  about  being 
too  busy." 

They  were  in  the  parlor  now,  and  Mary  Stuart  chanced 
to  be  standing  near  a  window.  "Why,  sister  Hattie,  who 
is  this?" 

A  crimson  glow  mounted  to  Hattie' s  cheeks  as  she 
glanced  out.  " Mr.  Gilbert,  I  do  declare,"  said  she.  "I 
am  surprised." 

Hope  was  a  little  agitated,  as  she  felt  sure  that 'after  such 
a  flattering  description  being  given  of  her  she  would  cer- 
tainly appear  to  disadvantage  before  Mr.  Gilbert.  She  had 
probably  never  looked  less  attractive  than  she  did  uiDon 
her  introduction  ,to  him.     Her  very  wish  to  appear  well 


74  THEN  AND   NOW  ? 

seemed  to  have  tlie  contrary  effect  upon  her.  She  was 
reserved  and  diffident,  while  the  Misses  Stuart  were  chat- 
tering away  like  magpies.  Eodney  Gilbert,  she  observed, 
was  a  tall,  athletic  man,  some  thirty  years  old,  with  dark 
hair  and  beard,  and  piercing  gray  eyes— not  strikingly 
handsome,  yet  equally  as  far  from  being  homely.  He  was 
well  dressed  in  black,  and  wore  a  diamond  ring  on  his  little 
finger,  which  from  its  looks  must  have  been  a  very  costly 
one.  For  the  brief  while  that  he  was  in  the  parlor  she  re- 
membered but  little  except  that  he  seemed  very  quiet  and 
uninteresting,  speaking  but  one  or  two  words  to  her,  while 
she  spoke  as  few  in  return,  and  it  was  with  a  feeling  of  relief 
that  she  saw  him  go  out  to  rejoin  the  gentlemen.  Two 
,young  ladies  came  just  as  he  went  out,  and  Mary  and 
Hattie  led  the  way  upstairs  for  them  to  remove  their  hats 
and  cloaks.  Thinking  their  absence  limited  to  a  moment 
or  two,  Hope  remained  in  the  parlor.  The  bay  window,  filled 
(with  the  exception  of  a  small  space  just  large  enough  for  one 
seat,)  with  rare  plants,  seemed  a  pleasant  i)lace  to  her,  and 
placing  an  ottoman  there  she  seated  herself.  Twilight  had 
gathered  in  the  room,  and  save  the  low  flicker  of  the  fire- 
light,  it  was  completely  in  shadow.  After  some  time  Hope 
grew  impatient  at  the  continued  absence  of  the  girls,  and 
was  about  to  rejoin  them  upstairs,  when  the  door  opened 
and  Mr.  Gilbert  and  Mr.  Young  entered  the  apartment,  and 
without  ever  glancing  toward  her,  seated  themselves  before 
the  fire.  They  were  in  animated  conversation  and  the  un- 
expected mention  of  her  own  name  caused  her  to  start  in 
surj)rise  and  her  heart  to  beat  more  rapidly.  Luckily 
neither  of  the  gentlemen  noticed  her  presence  and  she 
became  an  unwilling  listener  to  the  following  conversation  : 

"Upon  my  word,  Young,"  remarked  Eodney,  "  I  was 
never  more  disappointed  in  my  life  than  I  was  to-day." 

"How  so?"  inquired  Mr.  Young. 

"Why,  I  was  introduced  to  Miss  Caldwell  this  evening, 


OR  IlO'Plil'S   FIRST   SCHOOL.  75 

and  from  your  description  I  expected  to  see  a  young  lady 
who  was  perfection  itself,  and  tliongli  1  cannot  say  she  is 
ugly,  yet  she  fell  very  far  below  my  expectations.  She 
lacks  brightness  and  color." 

"I  judge  for  myself  in  regard  to  beauty,  Gilbert,  and 
still  think  Miss  Caldwell  lovely." 

"  Well,  there  is  no  accounting  for  taste,  and,  after  all,  it 
is  best  for  us  not  to  be  rivals,"  rejoined  Mr,  Gilbert. 

"  Rivals  !"  echoed  Mr.  Young,  mockingly.  "  You  know 
me  too  well  for  that.  Miss  Hope  is  to  me  a  pretty,  inter- 
esting girl,  with  whom  I  expect  to  have  a  pleasant  time, 
but  nothing  serious  will  come  of  it,  you  may  depend  upon 
that." 

The  reader  can  judge  in  what  an  unpleasant  position 
Hope  was  placed  at  this  time.  How  fervently  did  she  wish 
that  she  had  either  gone  with  the  other  girls,  or  else  had  let 
her  presence  be  known  at  once  to  the  gentlemen.  And  how 
to  extricate  herself  from  her  present  predicament  she  could 
not  tell.  Fortunately  for  her,  at  that  moment  Mr.  Stuart 
called  the  two,  and  without  noticing  her,  they  left  the 
apartment.  Quietly,  yet  with  all  possible  haste,  she  made 
her  escape  from  the  parlor  and  rejoined  her  girl  com- 
panions, who  were  not  yet  sufficiently  beautified  to  go 
down  stairs.  She  determined  to  act  as  though  she  had  not 
heard  words  not  intended  for  her  ear,  had  not  caught  a  peep 
at  scenes  behind  the  curtain,  but  the  burning  blood  rushed 
to  her  cheeks,  rendering  her  tenfold  more  beautiful,  and  a 
brighter  light  flashed  in  her  dark  eyes.  She  could  scarcely 
account  for  the  emotions  which  caused  her  heart  to  beat 
wildly.  "What  did  she  care  for  the  opinion  of  Mr.  Young 
or  of  Mr.  Gilbert,  that  their  jpraise  or  dispraise  should 
affect  her  ?  No,"  she  decided,  "  she  was  quite  independent 
of  the  good  opinion  of  either."  Yet  had  she  been  alone, 
there  is  no  doubt  that  she  would  have  indulged  in  a  hearty 
cryj  without  reference  to  the  why  or  wherefore  of  it.     As 


76  THEN    AND   NOW  ; 

it  was,  she  choked  back  the  bitter  feelings  and  proceeded 
to  array  herself  in  another  dress  preparatory  to  supper. 
For  years  she  had  not  looked  so  i^retty.  Her  dress  was 
one  which  had  been  remodeled,  but  it  fitted  her  so  well, 
and  was  trimmed  with  such  taste,  as  to  look  really  elegant. 
A  black  cashmere,  with  satin  trimmings,  relieved  by  white 
lace  at  the  neck  and  in  the  sleeves,  and  a  scarlet  bow  at  the 
throat ;  it  set  off  her  dark  skin  to  advantage,  and  the 
diamond  breast-pin  fastening  her  bow  was  rivaled  by  the 
brightness  of  her  eyes.  The  jetty  hair  was  arranged  in 
heavy  i3laits,  tied  by  a  scarlet  ribbon,  and  little  tendrils 
nestled  around  her  brow  and  temples,  giving  an  added 
sweetness  to  her  face,  which,  with  the  vivid  coloring  lent  it 
by  excitement,  was  perfect.  Her  companions  could  not 
forbear  commenting  on  her  aj^pearance  and  compliments 
were  showered  upon  her  by  the  girls.  Perhaps  Rodney 
Grilbert  felt  like  retracting  his  opinion  in  regard  to  her 
beauty  ;  certain  it  is  that  he. could  not  keep  from  looking 
at  her  almost  more  than  politeness  demanded,  and  Mr. 
Young  tried  to  be  very  devoted.  Strange  enough,  it  seemed 
to  the  other  girls  that  these  two  gentlemen  appeared  to  be 
less  favored  by  Hope  than  the  others  present.  Several 
times  in  the  course  of  the  evening  she  had  an  opportunity 
of  saying  sarcastic  things  to  them,  which  she  improved  to 
the  utmost.  To  Mr.  Young,  in  particular,  she  was  almost 
merciless,  yet  so  witty  withal,  that  he  admired  her  even 
when  her  cutting  speeches  wounded  him  the  most.  Rodney 
Gilbert  wondered  at  the  change  that  had  come  over  her  in  a 
few  brief  hours,  and  could  scarcely  believe  her  to  be  the 
same  being  he  had  met  with  in  the  early  part  of  the  evening. 
Gay,  brilliant,  witty  and  sarcastic  at  one  moment ;  in  the 
next,  womanly  and  pathetic,  revealing  by  occasional  flashes 
a  brightness  of  imagination  and  depth  of  intellect  quite 
unusual  in  a  young  and  pretty  girl,  it  is  not  to  be  won 
dered  at  that  she  i:)roved  very  attractive  both  to  him  and  to 


OR  hope's  first  school.  77 

Mr.  Gilbert.  The  latter  little  thought  that  his  words, 
"she  lacks  brightness  and  color,"  were  present  in  her 
mind  whenever  he  spoke  to  her,  and  that  the  certainty  of 
his  indifference  to  her  or  to  her  looks  caused  her  to  feel 
entirely  independent  of  his  opinion  and  gave  a  dash  of 
recklessness  to  her  feelings  which  made  her  show  to  the 
very  best  advantage. 

The  evening  passed  off  very  pleasantly.  There  was  music 
and  sparkling  chat,  gay  laughter  and  badinage,  checkers 
and  cards.  In  this  last  amusement  Rodney  Gilbert  and 
Hope  declined  to  participate,  consequently  they  were  left 
to  entertain  each  other.  She  did  not  admire  his  manner. 
"He  was  eccentric,"  she  decided;  ''not  very  pleasant 
either."  There  was  a  bitterness  about  him  that  she  did  not 
like — a  blase,  wearied  air,  a  contempt  for  the  world,  and  a 
dissatisfaction  for  all  things  "under  the  sun,"  which 
though  akin  to  her  own  way  at  times,  was  not  attractive  to 
her.  Altogether  she  was  as  far  from  fancying  him  as  he 
had  been  her. 

"You  do  not  sing,  I  believe,Miss  Caldwell,"  he  remarked. 

"  Not  often,"  she  replied  ;  "  my  voice  is  not  very  strong, 
and  though  I  love  music,  I  fall  so  far  short  of  my  imagina- 
tion of  a  musician  that  I  dislike  very  much  to  play  and 
sing  for  company." 

"I  am  utterly  indifferent  to  music  unless  it  is  of  the 
finest  kind,"  said  he  wearily,  almost  rudely,  Hope  thought; 
then  he  rejoined,  "most  young  ladies  assume  so  many 
airs  when  asked  to  perform  on  any  musical  instrument,  for 
the  amusement  of  others,  that  it  is  really  a  matter  of  relief 
to  me  when  they  are  through  playing,  and  I  hardly  ever 
force  my  feelings  enough  to  make  any  such  request  of 
them  ;  but  I  would  really  like  to  hear  you." 

"  Why  f  she  inquired  shortly. 

"lean  hardly  tell  you  myself,  except  that  I  imagine 
that  you  would  sing  to  suit  my  taste,  would  express  in 


78>  T'HEN  AND  NOW  ; 

music  the  real  tliouglits  and  feelings  of  the  heart,  instead 
of  some  sentimental  nonsense  about  'music,  love  and" 
flowers.'  I  do  detest  such  trash.  Now  I  think  that  the 
•  Captive  Knight,'  or  '  Auld  Lang  Syne,'  or  '  Auld  Robin 
Graj^'  would  hardly  suffer  in  your  hands.  I  think  the 
intense  pathos— the  deep,  earnest  feeling  of  such  songs  as 
these— would  have  intenser  meaning  and  cause  more  thrill- 
ing emotion  when  sung  by  you." 

"Then  you  are  very  much  mistaken,"  said  Hope  laugh- 
ingly,  "  for  I  sing  none  of  those  songs.  I  am  no  musician,  as 
I  told  you  just  now,  and  must  really  decline  performing  for 
you,  but,"  she  continued,  "  I  have  heard  of  your  skill  in 
music  and  would  be  delighted  to  hear  you." 

"Upon  my  word,  you  are  cool,"  he  replied.  "After 
refusing  positively  to  gratify  me,  you  in  the  same  breath  ask 
me  to  oblige  you.  That  is  reversing  the  golden  rule.  It 
is  making  your  neighbor  return  good  for  your  evil,  instead 
of  your  doing  so  toward  him.  Well,  be  it  so  ;  I  will  show 
my  Christian  character,  or  obliging  disposition,  whichever 
you  may  choose  to  think  it,  by  playing  and  singing  for 
you  until  you  are  tired." 

Later  in  the  evening  he  fulfilled  his  j)romi8e,  and  as 
Hope  listened  to  his  rich,  mellow  voice,  with  impassioned 
earnestness  ringing  in  its  tones,  or  else  recklessly  gay,  as 
the  subject  required,  she  found  herself  moved  almost 
to  tears  by  its  music,  and  no  longer  marveling  that  he  was 
difficult  to  please,  nor  blaming  him  for  it.  He  seemed 
scarcely  the  same  being  while  singing.  The  bitter,  misan- 
thropic look  was  gone,  and  in  its  place  a  mournful,  melan- 
choly expression  took  j)ossesslon  of  his  countenance.  He 
sang  one  song  which  particularly  attracted  Hope.  It  was  a 
story  telling  of  fondest  love  met  by  the  blackest  perfidy  ; 
of  a  ruined  life,  wrecked  by  the  falsehood  of  a  beloved 
one.  Mr.  Stuart  said  to  Hope,  who  had  sat  spell-bound  as 
Mr.  Gilbert  sang : 


OE  hope's  first  school.  79 

"  I  expect  Rodney  Gilbert  is  the  author  of  that  song,  it 
sounds  so  much  like  him." 

"  It  is  beautiful,"  she  murmured,  tears  glistening  on  her 
lashes.  To  herself  she  said,  "I  wonder  if  that  is  Mr. 
Gilbert's  experience:  if  so,  it  is  like  mine."  For  the 
remainder  of  the  evening  she  was  a  little  dreamy.  Her 
reflections  involuntarily  wandered  back  to  the  past  of  her 
life,  and  once  or  twice  she  found  herself  struggling  to  keei3 
her  thoughts  on  the  real,  actual  present.  Rodney  had  but 
little  more  to  say  to  her,  and  she  could  scarcely  tell 
whether  she  liked  or  disliked  him.  That  there  was  some 
mystery  about  him  she  felt  sure  ;  no  one  could  ever  sing 
like  that  without  some  depth  of  feeling,  yet  she  disliked  the 
mocking  tones  that  he  sometimes  assumed,  the  irony  which 
was  apparent  in  much  that  he  said,  his  bitter  sarcasm  and 
seeming  contempt  for  some  things  that  she  felt  dear  ;  and 
then,  too,  she  mentally  accused  him  of  deceit,  in  trying  to 
flatter  her  after  disparaging  her  to  Mr.  Young.  "  I  wish  I 
had  not  seen  him  ;  he  has  affected  me  unj)leasantly,  and 
yet  I  never  heard  such  superb  singing  in  my  life  before," 
she  thought;  "but  he  is  a  vain,  sarcastic  fellow,  and  I 
never  expect  to  really  like  either  him  or  Daniel  Young." 
And  so  puzzled  and  perplexed,  she  retired  to  dream  over 
the  incidents  of  the  preceding  day. 


CHAPTER  IX. 


The  Sabbath  after  the  events  we  have  just  recorded  was  a 
lovely  day,  and  the  group  of  young  people,  who  expected 
to  attend  the  church,  some  three  miles  from  Mr.  Stuart's, 
were  in  the  gayest  spirits — too  gay,  indeed,  for  the  occa- 
sion.    In  some  way,  Hope  scarcely  knew  how,  Mr.  Gilbert 


80  THEN   AND    NOW 


contrived  to  be  her  escort,  and  his  elegant  phseton,  drawn 
by  two  milk-white  horses,  was  the  admiration  of  the 
crowd  who  started  off  together  that  morning.  The  ride 
was  delightful.  The  morning  air  was  bracing,  although 
the  sun  shone  brightly  over  the  landscape,  and  it  was  a 
luxury  but  to  breathe  it.  Bathed  in  the  pleasant  sunshine 
and  inhaling  the  wintry  air,  with  pleasant  surroundings  in 
every  respect,  our  heroine  ceased  to  remember  the  trials  of 
the  past,  and  for  the  time  was  purely  happy.  Rodney 
Gilbert  did  not  converse  in  such  a  manner  as  entirely  to 
dissipate  her  unpleasant  impressions  of  him,  yet  she  liked 
him  better  than  she  had  done  the  day  before.  Conversa- 
tion in  this  brief  ride  turned  on  many  themes.  Poetry  and 
poets  were  discussed  in  turn,  and  after  mentioning  several 
favorite  authors,  Hope  remarked  : 

"I  have  lately  read  a  piece  in  a  magazine  entitled, 
'  Passing  Thoughts,'  which  interested  me.  I  have  a  volume 
of  poetry  by  the  same  author.  Do  you  remember  seeing 
the  poem  ?" 

"Yes,"  said  he,  "I  have  read  it." 

"I  do  not  think  it  striking  in  regard  to  style,"  she 
replied,  "yet  I  feel  that  I  would  like  to  know  the  writer. 
I  sympathize  with  the  feelings  expressed  in  the  poem,  the 
weariness  of  life,  the  loathing  of  all  that  people  generally 
hold  dear.  Surely  some  hidden  sorrow  must  have  sapped 
the  springs  of  happiness  ere  he  wrote  in  such  a  manner." 
For  a  moment  Mr.  Gilbert  looked  earnestly,  scrutinizingly 
at  Hope— a  glance  which  she  remembered  afterwards, 
though  not  noticing  it  particularly  just  then.  A  smile 
illumined  his  dark  countenance,  beautifying  it  wonder- 
fully. 

"Perhaps  some  day  Fate  may  gratify  your  wish,  but 
even  then  you  may  be  disappointed.  Authors  are  not 
always  i)leasant  people." 

"I do  not  imagine  the  author  of  'Passing  Thoughts'  a 


OR  hope's  first  school.  81 

pleasant  person,  I  picture  to  myself  one  having  a  morose, 
gloomy  disposition,  who  looks  on  the  bitter  side  of  human 
life,  yet  who  has  some  noble,  redeeming  qualities -per- 
haps generosity,  a  love  of  truth,  a  hatred  of  oppression 
and  scorn  of  meanness  and  hypocrisy." 

An  indescribable  expression  pervaded  the  countenance 
of  Rodney  Gilbert  as  Hope  uttered  these  words  ;  his  face 
glowed,  his  eyes  sparkled,  with  what  emotion  it  would  be 
difficult  to  determine.  During  the  remainder  of  the  ride 
he  was  very  quiet,  saying  but  little,  and  that  on  common- 
place topics,  and  Hope  wondered  what  was  the  matter. 
On  driving  up  to  the  church  they  were  honored  by  the 
gaze  of  many  curious  eyes,  and  she  was  almost  discom- 
posed by  it.  Once  in  the  house  and  seated,  she  felt  more 
at  ease.  There  were  but  few  people  there,  nearly  all  of  the 
male  and  some  of  the  female  portion  of  the  congregation 
being  outside  in  the  sunshine.  Old  ladies,  wrapped  up 
warmly  in  thick  shawls,  with  veils  tied  over  their  bonnets 
around  their  head  and  ears  to  protect  them  from  the  cold, 
were  gossipping  together,  some  of  them  dipping  snuff  as 
they  conversed.  Young  girls  in  their  best  array,  with  an 
expression  of  conscious  beauty  on  their  faces,  were  laugh- 
ing and  talking'  in  quite  a  lively  strain,  while  mothers,  with 
their  infants  in  their  arms,  were  discussing  their  domestic 
trials  together  ;  one  telling  of  what  a  terrible  time  she  had 
when  her  youngest  child  cut  its  teeth,  and  another  going 
into  a  long  recital  of  the  trouble  she  underwent  when  her 
little  ones  took  the  measles,  and  so  on  through  the  whole 
gauntlet  of  suffering  to  be  run  in  a  household  of  ordinary 
size.  These  narrations,  though,  were  evidently  of  more 
interest  to  the  narrators  than  to  their  auditors.  Human 
sympathy  is  a  plant  of  a  very  singular  nature. 

The  old-fashioned  tune  of  "Ortonville"  was  raised  bv 
one  of  the  few  occui^ants  of  the  church,  and  as  its  first 
notes  fell  upon  their  ears  the  crowd  outside  began  to  enter 


89  .  THEN   AND   NOW  ; 

tlie  building,  thougli  in  quite  an  irregular  fashion.  The 
voices  by  which  it  was  sung  were  not  at  all  well  trained, 
yet  it  awoke  very  sweet  emotions  in  the  heart  of  our 
heroine.  For  the  time  all  the  bitter  experience  of  her  past 
life  seemed  swept  away  by  the  old-timed  melody  ;  she  felt 
like  a  new  creature.  But  as  the  sweet  sounds  died  away 
she  drifted  off  into  idle  reverie  and  her  mental  vision  was 
hlledwith  castles  of  hope  based  on  an  earthly  foundation. 

The  preacher  on  this  occasion  was  Mr.  Ransom.  It 
seemed  to  her  a  long  time  since  the  first  sermon  she  had 
heard  him  preach,  j^et  in  reality  it  was  but  a  few  short 
weeks.  In  the  musical  tones  peculiar  to  hira  he  read  the 
opening  hymn,  prayed  a  most  fervent  j)rayer,  and  then 
came  the  Avords  of  the  text:  "Whosoever  drinketh  of 
this  water  shall  thirst  again,  but  whosoever  drinketh  of  the 
water  that  I  shall  give  him,  shall  never  thirst,  but  the  water 
that  I  shall  give  him,  shall  be  in  him  a  well  of  water 
springing  uj)  into  everlasting  life." 

Mr.  Ransom  first  mentioned  the  circumstances  under 
which  these  words  were  spoken.  He  drew  a  graphic  word 
picture  of  the  eastern  scene.  Listening  to  him  one  could, 
in  imagination,  behold  it ;  the  hot  noonday  sun  blazing 
down  on  Samaria  ;  the  tired  God-man  sitting  down  at  the 
well  awaiting  the  return  of  his  disciples  with  "  the  food 
that  perisheth,"  and  the  plain,  matter-of-fact  Samaritan 
woman  coming  to  draw  water  and  wondering  at  the  words 
that  Jesus  spake,  not  comprehending  their  meaning.  It 
required  but  little  effort  to  fancy  that  one  heard  the  con- 
versation  between  Jesus  and  the  woman,  in  which  He  en- 
deavored to  lead  her  thoughts  away  from  the  water  that 
perishes  to  that  which  is  springing  up  into  "everlasting 
life."  The  preacher  explained  what  was  meant  by  "  this 
water."  He  compared  all  earthly  things  to  the  water 
which,  if  one  drink,  he  shall  thirst  again.  He  spoke  of 
the  transitory  and  unsatisfactory  nature  of  worldly  enjoy- 


OR  hope's  first  school.  83 

merits  and  their  utter  inability  to  satisfy  the  craving  of  an 
immortal  soul.  We  subjoin  an  extract  from  his  sermon  on 
this  subject : 

"To-day  is  all  brightness  ;  the  balmy  breezes  bear  to  our 
delighted  senses  the  perfume  of  violets  ;  the  first  footprints 
of  the  Spring  have  left  their  impress  on  field  and  forest, 
and  nature  thrills  with  the  rapture  of  returning  life,  and 
we,  in  unison  with  her,  feel  our  pulses  beat  with  gladness. 
We  have  enough  ;  our  friends  are  around  us  ;  no  anxious 
care  besets  us,  and  we  ask  ourselves,  '  Why  cannot  every 
one  be  happy  on  this  earth,  which  is  itself  so  beautiful  and 
so  well  prepared  to  make  its  inhabitants  happy  V  But  a 
change  comes  :  clouds  and  rain  obscure  the  loveliness  of 
the  landscape  ;  our  friends  are  dead  or  absent,  and  we, 
perchance,  sick  both  in  body  and  mind,  and  in  our  gloom 
and  despondency  we  exclaim,  '  This  is  a  wretched  life 
after  all,  and  hardly  worth  living  for.'  Oh  !  my  brethren, 
does  not  this  XDrove  to  us  that  whoever  drinketh  of  this 
water  shall  thirst  again  ?  Thirst !  yea,  die  of  maddening 
thirst !  Witness  Alexander  weeping  for  worlds  to  con- 
quer ;  Napoleon  chained,  Prometheus-like,  to  a  desert  rock 
and  dying  with  a  quenchless  thirst  of  power  ;  and  Lord 
Byron  who,  in  the  eloquent  words  of  Pollok, 

"  Drank  every  cup  of  joy ;  heard  every, trump  of  Fame  ; 
Drank  early,  deeply  drank,  then  died  of  thirst. 
Because  there  was  no  more  to  drink." 

And  as  these  eminent  examples  of  men  whom  the  world 
calls  great,  died  with  unsatisfied  longings  after  the  unat- 
tainable, so  now  this  principle  holds  good  through  every 
rank  of  life.  Everywhere  men  and  women  are  toiling  after 
the  bread  which  perisheth,  after  the  water  which  "if  a 
man  drink  he  shall  thirst  again."  To  day,  in  the  name  of 
the  Saviour,  I  offer  you  the  water  which  "if  a  man  drink 
he  shall  never  thirst,  but  which  shall  be  in  him  a  well  of 
water  springing  up  into  everlasting  life."     This  water  is 


84  THEN    AND   NOW  ; 

given  to  those  alone  who  believe  in  Christ  and  obey  His 
word.  Bnt,  Christians,  you  object — have  trials,  aye,  some- 
times are  sorely  afflicted  ;  is  there  then  no  longing  for  ease 
and  peace  and  happiness,  no  thirst  for  the  pleasures  of  the 
world  ?  Thank  God,  they  do  have  trials,  thank  God,  there 
are  moments  when  they  are  sorely  depressed  :  yet  by  His 
merc}^  even  tribulation  is  not  an  evil,  but  the  sweet  means 
of  filling  the  heart  with  entire  devotedness  to  Christ,  and 
of  affording  a  rapture  that  the  world  can  never  know. 
This  water  does,  then,  indeed,  "spring  up  into  everlast- 
ing life ;"  earth  and  earthly  things  fade  from  the  vision, 
and  the  hope  of  eternal  joy  is  so  strong  as  to  cause  us  to 
forget  the  petty  cares  and  sorrows  of  the  way.  What  are 
a  few  discomforts,  a  little  wetting  of  the  rain  or  blowing  of 
the  chilling  wind,  when  at  the  end  of  our  journey  we 
expect  a  lovely  abode,  where  we  may  reside  for  all  time  ? 
And  what  are  our  few  tribulations  when  at  the  end  of  oiir 
pilgrimage  we  expect  to  dwell  in  Heaven  through  eternal 
ages  ?  "  Springing  up  into  eternal  life  !"  What  a  promise 
is  this  !  Can  we  realize  it,  can  we  grasp  it  ?  Think  of 
the  pleasure  filling  our  hearts  on  meeting  with  a  long  absent 
friend,  of  the  sweet  emotion  excited  by  some  delicious 
strain  of  music,  or  by  the  sight  of  some  lovely  object  in 
Nature  or  Art ;  think  of  the  bliss  of  mutual  affection,  of 
the  joys  springing  up  around  the  family  fireside,  or  the 
rai^ture  pervading  our  being  at  the  comi^letion  of  some  long 
cherished  scheme  ;  then  imagine  all  these  separate  delights 
combined  in  one  ecstatic  throb  of  bliss,  and  even  then  we 
would  fall  far  short  of  compassing  the  ineffable  happiness 
of  Heaven.  "Eye  hath  not  seen,  ear  hath  not  heard, 
neither  hath  it  entered  into  the  heart  of  man  to  conceive 
the  things  \vhich  God  hath  prepared  for  those  wiio  love 
Him."  Think,  then,  you  who  refuse  to  partake  of  "this 
water  of  life,"  of  how  terrible  a  thing  it  will  be  to  hear  the 
sublime  harmonies  of  the  redeemed,  ringing  through  the 


OR  hope's  first  school.  85 

streets  of  Heaven,  and  to  feel  that  "you  yourselves  are  cast 
out!"  Be  wise  in  time,  drink  now,  drink  freely  of  this 
water  which  Jesus  gives,  and  it  shall  be  in  you  a  "  well  of 
water  springing  u])  into  everlasting  life." 

For  one  hour  Hope  listened  to  Mr.  Ransom's  sermon,  as 
with  impassioned  earnestness,  his  whole  soul  beaming  in 
his  eyes,  he  offered  the  water  of  life  to  the  sinner,  and 
even  when  she  heard  his  words  no  longer,  the  impression 
made  by  them  did  not  fade  away.  In  after  life  the  seed 
sown  that  da}^  in  her  heart  sprang  up,  yielding  an  abun- 
dant harvest.  Riding  back  from  church  with  Rodney 
Gilbert  that  afternoon,  she  was  a  little  abstracted,  and  he, 
too,  was  not  very  talkative.  "Some  shadow  must  have 
crossed  his  path,"  she  thought,  he  was  so  absent-minded. 
She  was  almost  glad  when  they  reached  Mr.  Stuart's  gate. 
Herbert  Ransom  spent  the  evening  there,  and  Hox)e  had  a 
long,  quiet  chat  with  him,  revealing  to  him  her  newly 
awakened  convictions  of  sin  and  her  serious  thoughts  of 
becoming  a  Christian  ;  and  she  awoke  a  new  interest  in  her 
behalf  in  his  sympathetic  heart.  The  evening  hours  sx3ed 
pleasantly  away.  Mr.  Ransom  had  a  happy  talent  of 
turning  the  tide  of  conversation  to  profitable  subjects 
without  a  touch  of  sanctimoniousness,  and  was  a  very 
pleasant  person  around  the  fireside.  Once  or  twice  in  the 
course  of  the  evening  he  and  Mr.  Gilbert  exchanged  a  few 
words,  and  Hope  noticed  that  they  seemed  very  intimate 
friends,  and  when  in  his  prayer  that  night  the  preacher 
invoked  God's  choicest  blessings  on  those  who  were  "tossed 
by  tempests  and  not  comforted,"  as  well  as  on  those  who 
had  wandered  "far  off  from  the  fold,"  she  could  not  help 
thinking  that  he  had  herself  and  her  discontented  friend  in 
mind  at  the  time. 


86  THEN  AND  NOW  ; 


CHAPTER  X. 


Wliile  on  a  visit  to  tlie  neighborliood  where  Hope  Cald- 
well taught  we  determined  to  call  upon  her  at  her  school- 
room, as  we  wished  to  see  whether  her  plan  of  instruction 
pleased  us.  It  was  a  lovely  spring  morning,  doors  and 
windows  were  open,  letting  in  the  sunshine  and  fresh  air. 
Teacher  and  scholars  were  standing,  but  with  heads  reve- 
rently bowed  as  we  canie  to  the  door,  for  the  morning 
prayer  was  being  read.  Too  diffident  to  pray  aloud  in  her 
own  language,  Hope  made  use  of  that  of  others.  When 
the  reading  was  over  she  came  forward,  inviting  us  in  and 
giving  us  comfortable  seats.  While  she  was  reading  the 
roll-call  we  availed  ourselves  of  the  oi^portunity  thus 
afforded  to  take  a  survey  of  the  school-room  and  of  the 
scholars.  We  were  struck  with  the  perfect  neatness  of  the 
house  and  of  the  pui^ils.  Clean  hands  and  faces,  nicely 
combed  hair,  shoes  properly  tied  and  nails  carefully  pared 
was  the  rule,  not  the  exception.  The  teacher  herself, 
though  dressed  with  extreme  plainness,  presented  an 
exceedingly  tidy  appearance,  and  her  every  surrounding 
betokened  neatness  and  refinement.  The  little  table  imme- 
diately in  front  of  her  chair  bore  the  weight  of  a  large 
dictionary  on  one  side  and  that  of  a  Bible  on  the  other, 
while  between  the  books  was  a  glass  containing  a  bouquet 
of  lovely  flowers.  On  the  right  of  her  seat  was  a  row  of 
shelves  intended  for  books  of  reference,  and  Hope's  herba- 
rium ;  on  the  left  a  similar  row,  serving  as  a  dej)ository  for 
every  object  gathered  in  her  walks  to  and  from  school 
which  she  thought  could  interest  the  children.  The  bodies 
of  insects,  mosses  and  lichens,  some  stuffed  birds  and 
animals,  pebbles,  different  kinds  of  wood,  etc.,  filled  these 


OR  hope's  first  school.  87 

shelves.  These  we  ascertained  from  her  were  made  useful 
in  the  daily  "object  lesson''  which  she  was  in  the  habit  of 
giving  the  pupils.  There  was  one  of  her  own  drawings 
hung  just  above  her  chair,  which  was  a  subject  of  con- 
tinual interest  and  remark  from  many  of  the  scholars.  In 
every  available  spot  was  placed  something  to  attract  the 
children — something  to  awaken  their  ambition  and  to 
inspire  in  them  new  resolves  to  be  wiser  and  better.  Little 
simple  engravings,  cut  from  discarded  magazines  or  pa^oers, 
each  picture  bearing  a  history,  which  had  been  faithfully 
narrated  by  the  teacher,  were  hung  around  the  blackened 
walls.  The  frames  were  of  such  simple  and  cheap  con- 
struction as  to  be  easily  made  by  Hope.  Bits  of  stiff 
pasteboard,  the  frames  of  broken  slates,  covered  with 
fancy  paper,  were  some  of  the  materials  employed  in 
fashioning  them,  and  they  answered  every  purpose.  After 
the  reading  of  the  roll-call  she  arranged  the  pupils  in  two 
lines  facing  each  other,  calling  them  out  by  their  numbers 
in  order  that  there  might  be  no  confusion  in  taking  their 
places.  Then,  while  thus  arranged,  they  repeated  in  unison 
"The  Sovereigns  of  England" — that  epitome  of  the  histor}^ 
of  the  kings  of  that  country  in  verse.  This  they  all  knew 
perfectl.y,  and  kept  perfect  time  in  their  repetition  of  it.  A 
song  followed  next  in  order,  entitled,  "Make  Your  Mark  ;" 
after  which  they  all  returned  to  their  seats.  A  class  in 
spelling  next  occupied  her  attention.  "  The  old  blue-backed 
spelling  book"  held  its  own  at  her  school.  The  lesson  was 
recited  "  by  heart,"  then  some  of  the  words  were  given  out 
to  be  written  on  the  blackboard  and  on  slates.  "  I  follow 
the  plan  inculcated  in  "Swan's  Speller,"  she  informed  me. 
After  the  spelling  lesson  came  one  in  arithmetic.  Here  she 
exercised  the  "memory"  in  requiring  a  perfect  knowledge 
of  the  tables  without  reference  to  the  book  ;  the  reasoning 
power  in  the  analysis  of  every  problem  ["given  the  pupil. 
"  The  memory,"  she  remarked,  "is  a  good,   faithful  pack- 


88  THEN   ANB    NOW  ; 

liorse,  and  one  whose  efficiency  is  increased  by  exercise  ; 
yet  it  must  not  be  allowed  to  take  the  precedence  of  un- 
derstanding or  of  reason.  Still  it  certainly  gives  one  great 
advantage  to  have  a  quick  and  retentive  memory,  and  that 
can  only  be  gained  in  the  majority  of  pupils  by  the  most 
careful  training."  She  gave  out  some  examples  not  con- 
tained in  their  arithmetic  to  the  scholars— little,  practical 
questions — which  were  calculated  to  impress  the  idea  deep 
upon  their  minds  that  arithmetic  is  not  a  matter  of  theory, 
but  an   every-day   affair,   required  in  every  walk  of  life. 

Her  teaching  geography  was  unlike  what  we  had  been 
heretofore  .  accustomed  to,  and  pleased  us  greatly.  "I 
have,"  she  said  to  her  pupils,  "striven  to  give  you  a 
clear  idea  of  what  is  meant  by  the  natural  division  of  land 
and  water,  as  also  of  the  meaning  of  each  division.  You 
have  been  with  me  in  my  rambles.  In  the  little  streams 
along  our  j^athway  we  have  seen  capes,  islands,  straits, 
isthmuses,  and  other  divisions  of  land  or  water.  I  have 
shown  you  hills  and  valleys,  and  explained  to  you  what  is 
meant  by  mountains,  by  the  ocean,  etc.  I  have  also 
taught  you  how  to  '  box  the  compass.'  You  know  what 
bounds  your  school-room  at  every  point.  Now  I  shall 
draw  a  ma^)  of  a  place  with  which  you  are  all  familiar." 
In  an  incredibly  short  time  she  had  outlined  a  i)erfect 
map  of  the  county  in  which  she  taught,  with  all  its 
divisions  into  townships,  and  its  boundaries,  together  with 
its  rivers,  towns  and  railroads.  The  children  were  all 
delighted  with  it  and  eager  to  try  their  hand  in  drawing 
one  for  themselves.  They  soon  had  the  names  of  the  town- 
shii^s  and  of  the  counties  bounding  it  in  their  memory,  as 
well  as  its  population,  etc.  Then  she  gave  them  a  little  of 
its  history,  striving  to  impress  these  facts  upon  their  youth- 
ful minds.  We  felt  sure  that  this  lesson  was  never  for- 
gotten b}^  them. 

A  recitation  in  grammar  came  next,  but  she  informed  us 


OR  hope's  first  school.  80 

that  she  was  badly  discouraged  in  this  study.  "  Grammar 
may  help  develop  the  reason  by  the  analysis  it  requires, 
but  correct  speaking  is  never  gained,  or  at  least  rarely,  if 
ever  gained,  save  by  association  with  those  who  cultivate 
correct  habits  of  speaking.  I  make  it  a  rule  to  point  out 
every  error  which  they  are  guilty  of  to  each  and  all  of  my 
pupils,  yet  unless  theirdaily  associates  talk  grammatically, 
I  almost  despair  of  ever  making  them  do  so." 

A  reading  lesson  was  the  last  before  the  noon  recess. 
Hope  was  sadly  exercised  in  this.  Some  of  her  scholars 
liad  acquired  a  sing-song  way  of  reading  before  she  had 
ever  taken  them  in  hand  ;  some  read  too  rapidly  ;  others 
did  not  observe  their  stops  ;  with  nearly  all  she  had  had 
sore  trials,  and  months  of  faithful  teaching  had  not  eradi- 
cated the  seeds  of  evil  habits  acquired  before  she  had  ever 
seen  them.  "Over  and  over  again  is  the  rule  here,"  she 
remarked  to  me.  "  I  sometimes  grow  almost  heartsick  at 
the  prospect.  Yet  I  see  some  improvement.  I  always 
require  the  children  to  tell  me  the  subject  of  their  lesson, 
and  what  is  meant  by  what  they  read,  ere  expecting  them 
to  read  with  even  ordinary  expression.  We  cannot  read 
well  what  we  do  not  understand." 

After  recess  came  a  dictionary  lesson,  in  which,  besides 
reciting  by  rote,  she  required  each  of  her  pupils  to  write  a 
sentence  in  which  some  word  contained  in  the  lesson  was 
rightly  employed.  This  was  to  test  their  knowledge  of  the 
real  meaning  of  the  words.  Writing  came  next,  conducted 
on  the  old,  mechanical  plan  of  writing  after  co^^ies,  though 
the  teacher  was  very  faithful  in  seeing  that  they  held  their 
pens  correctly  and  that  they  took  pains  in  writing.  Her 
X)upils  had,  she  informed  me,  "improved  very  much  of 
late."  Then  came  a  history  lesson.  It  was  a  sketch  of 
the  life  of  Christopher  Columbus,  as  contained  in  the 
History  of  the  United  States.  "  To-day  they  will  read  this 
history  with  the  name  of  the  person  whose  history  it  is  ; 


90  THEN   AND  NOW  ; 

to-morrow  I  shall  read  the  history  and  shall  require  them 
to  give  me  the  name,"  she  informed  me.  A  little  while 
before  school  was  dismissed  she  read  a  simple  story,  re- 
quiring each  scholar  to  write  an  epitome  of  it  on  his  or  her 
slate.  "This  was  a  most  improving  exercise,"  she  said, 
"and  soon  gave  a  scholar  not  only  correct  habits  of 
writing  and  spelling,  but  even  some  idea  of  composition." 
Some  calisthenic  exercises,  very  well  performed,  ended  the 
day's  lesson. 

The  reader  must  remember  that  w^e  are  simply  describing 
a  teacher  who  was  destitute  of  all  those  advantages  which 
N'ormal  Schools  and  Teacher's  Institutes  now  afford  the 
profession.  Hope  had  taken  up  this  calling,  as  thousands 
of  others  do,  merely  to  make  a  little  money  ;  but  once 
engaged  in  it,  the  work  was  of  absorbing  interest  to  her. 
Teaching  she  regarded  as  one  of  the  noblest  tasks,  second 
only  to  the  preaching  of  the  Gospel,  and  her  ambition  was 
awakened  to  fill  up  the  full  measure  of  her  duty.  She 
read,  thought  and  studied  in  order  to  be  better  prepared  to 
teach,  and  in  some  way,  she  scarcely  knew  how,  nearly 
everything  reminded  her  of  her  scholars.  True,  at  times 
the  regular  succession  of  tasks  was  a  little  tiresome  to 
her  ;  then  again  the  hours  sped  swiftly  away,  almost  too 
swiftly. 

Three  weeks  had  elapsed  since  her  visit  to  Mr.  Stuart's 
before  she  saw  any  of  the  party  she  had  met  there, 
Daniel  Young  had  lately  become  acquainted  with  a  beauti- 
ful young  lady  in  a  neighboring  town,  and  with  character- 
istic fondness  for  novelty  had  devoted  himself  to  her, 
as  if  in  almost  total  forgetfulness  of  Hoi3e.  Herbert  Ran- 
som was  the  first  person  of  that  pleasant  crowd  w^hom  she 
saw.  He  was  to  preach  on  the  Sabbath  at  the  little  church 
near  Mr.  Watkins',  and  spent  the  preceding  night  under 
the  hospitable  roof  of  that  gentleman.  Hope  enjoyed  the 
time  passed  in  his  society  very  much.     In  the  course  of 


OR  hope's  fikst  school.  91 


their  conversation  Rodney  Gilbert's  name  was  mentioned, 
and  subsequently  she  spoke  of  '•  Passing  Thoughts." 

"I  never  read  that  poem,"  said  Herbert,  "without 
regret.  No  one  ever  stood  a  fairer  chance  of  being  a  bene- 
factor to  his  race  than  Rodney  ;  of  no  one  did  I  ever  hope 
more,  though  I  am  his  junior  by  several  years;  yet  his 
poem  conveys  a  just  impression  of  his  feelings  now.  In 
some  way,  I  scarcely  know  how,  he  became  soured,  and  is 
one  who  doubts  almost  everyone,  and  is,  I  fear,  far  from 
God— a  wanderer  from  the  fold." 

"Is  Mr.  Gilbert,"  Hope  exclaimed,  half  breathless  with 
surprise,  while  a  crimson  glow  dyed  cheek  and  brow  ;  "is 
Mr.  Gilbert  the  author  of  '  Passing  Thoughts  V  " 

"Why,  did  you  not  know  it?"  he  inquired. 

"Know  it!  no  indeed,"  said  she..  "I  never  even 
dreamed  of  such  a  thing." 

"I  thought,"  he  replied,  "that  our  community  was  too 
proud  of  having  a  real,  live  author  in  their  midst  not  to 
inform  a  stranger  of  it ;  but  this  only  fulfills  the  words  of 
Scripture  :  '  A  prophet  is  not  without  honor  save  in  his 
own  country,  and  among  his  own  kin.'  " 

Hope  felt  vexed.  To  think  that  she  had  expressed  her- 
self so  freely  in  regard  to  "Passing  Thoughts"  before 
Mr.  Gilbert,  and  had  expressed,  too,  so  earnest  a  desire  to 
become  acquainted  with  the  author  !  She  could  now  un- 
derstand the  meaning  of  his  scrutinizing  glance  and  could 
appreciate  the  amused  smile  which  irradiated  his  face 
while  she  was  talking  to  him  on  that  subject.  What  if 
he  should  deem  her  ignorance  assumed — a  mere  pretence 
to  give  her  real  opinion  of  his  work  ?  The  thought  was  to 
her  a  vexatious  one.  "It  seems  to  me,"  she  reflected, 
"that  Mr.  Rodney  Gilbert  is  destined  to  be  my  evil 
genius,  and  I  wish  I  had  never  seen  him." 

Mr.  Ransom  noticed  the  cloud  on  her  countenance  and 

kindly  inquired  its  cause.  True  to  her  frank  disi^osition, 
she  told  him.    He  laughed. 


92  THEN    AND   NOW  ; 

"I  can  understand  your  feelings,"  lie  said,  "yet  I  can- 
not say  that  I  am  sorry  for  the  occurrence.  Rodney  per- 
haps needs  to  be  told  his  faults,  and  all  unconsciously  as 
you  did  so,  it  may  effect  good." 

"But  to  think,"  said  she,  "of  me,  a  stranger,  telling 
him  that  I  thought  him  morose  and  gloomy,  and  that  his 
style  was  not  to  my  liking  ;  it  is  too  bad." 

"I  have  made  just  such  mistakes,"  he  replied,  "and 
oftentimes  have  become  the  best  of  friends  to  those  with 
whom  my  acquaintance  began  so  inauspiciously.  The 
ludicrous  associations  connected  with  our  dawning  intimacy 
served  but  to  weld  the  chain  of  affection  faster." 

He  smiled  mischievously,  while  a  vivid  blush  mounted 
even  to  Hope's  brow,  and  she  endeavored  to  change  the 
subject,  in  which  effort  she  was  kindly  assisted  b}^  the 
minister.  There  was  something  in  Herbert  Ransom's  dis- 
position to  inspire  one  with  the  utmost  confidence  in  him, 
and  as  she  conversed  with  him  our  heroine  felt,  before  the 
evening  was  over,  that  if  she  ever  needed  a  friend  he 
would  be  one  on  whom  she  could  rely. 

On  the  Sabbath  he  preached  again,  and  though  Hope  did 
not  fancy  his  sermon  as  well  as  she  had  done  the  last  one 
which  she  had  heard  him  preach,  yet  knowing  of  and 
trusting  in  his  piety  as  she  did,  every  word  he  spoke  made 
a  deep  impression  on  her  heart. 

All  of  her  recent  acquaintances  were  at  church  save  the 
one  who,  though  in  no  agreeable  manner,  haunted  her 
thoughts.  Rodney  Gilbert  was  not  there.  Daniel  Young 
was  j)aying  very  marked  attention  to  a  young  lady  who 
had  come  with  him,  and  though  he  spoke,  their  meeting 
was  not  altogether  as  cordial  as  heretofore.  Hattie  and 
Mary  Stuart  and  Estelle  Moran  greeted  her  very  affec- 
tionately. 

"Has  Mr.  Gilbert  called  on  you  ?"  inquired  Hattie. 

"No,  indeed,"  she  replied;  "I  have  not  thought  of 
such  a  thing." 


OR  hope's  first  school.  93 

"He  spoke  of  doing  so,"  said  Miss  Stuart,  "and  I 
thought  perhaps  he  had  been.  He  admires  you  very  much." 

"  I  was  not  aware  of  it,"  rei)lied  Hope  coldly,  and  the 
subject  was  immediately  dropped. 

Hattieand  Mary  went  home  witli  lier,  and  judging  from 
their  conversation,  she  decided  that  Mr.  Gilbert  occupied  a 
large  share  of  their  thoughts.  She  determined  within  her- 
self rather  to  avoid  him  than  to  strive  to  gain  his  notice. 
She  felt  intuitively  that  should  he  ever  pay  her  much 
attention  it  would  put  an  end  to  the  friendship  existing 
between  her  and  the  two  girls.  Monday  was  a  cloudy 
day,  and  she  was  uncomfortable,  both  in  mind  and  body. 
Her  head  ached  and  it  seemed  to  her  that  the  children 
were  more  than  usually  idle  and  trying  to  the  temjier. 
She  struggled  against  every  feeling  of  impatience  for  a 
considerable  time,  but  as  one  aggravation  after  another 
came  to  try  her,  she  grew  angry,  for  the  first  time  in  her 
school  life,  and  spoke  crossly  to  the  children.  In  five 
minutes  after  she  was  ashamed  of  herself.  How  could 
she,  she  asked  herself,  blame  the  scholars  for  their  con- 
duct, when  she  herself  had  not  learned  the  lesson  of  self- 
command  ?  At  recess  the  refiection  still  haunted  her. 
She  sat  down  at  a  desk,  bowed  her  head  upon  it  and, 
woman-like,  gave  vent  to  her  feelings  by  a  shower  of 
remorseful  tears.  A  sudden  step  caused  her  to  look  up, 
and  there  in  the  doorway  stood  the  last  person  whom  she 
expected  or  wished  to  see  just  now,  Rodney  Gilbert.  He 
seemed  half  inclined  to  leave  as  he  noticed  her  agitation, 
but  changed  his  mind,  went  forward,  and  with  a  sympa- 
thizing look  on  his  face,  remarked  : 

"Excuse  me,  Miss  Caldwell,  for  intruding  upon  you, 
but  I  could  not  resist  the  temptation  of  calling  as  I 
passed." 

Hope  shook  hands  with  him  as  he  extended  his  hand, 
but  could  not  for  three  minutes  articulate  one  word. 
Then  she  said : 


94  THEN   AND   NOW  ; 

"  I  know  it  seems  very  foolish  in  me,  Mr.  Gilbert,  but 
the  truth  must  be  told  at  all  hazards.  I  was  just  having  a 
cry  because  I  lost  my  temper  this  morning.  I  hardly  felt 
well  enough  to  teach,  and  the  trial  was  more  than  I  could 
bear  patiently." 

"I  wonder  you  can  endure  it  at  all,"  said  he  warmly  ; 
''but  I  should  not  trouble  myself  about  the  children. 
They  are  as  happy  now  as  kings.  I  stopped  to  look  at 
their  i)lay -houses  Just  now  and  they  really  entertained  me 
very  much.  You  are  doing  a  good  work  here,  Miss 
Caldwell." 

"Not  half  so  good  as  I  wish  to  do,"  a  sudden  enthu- 
siasm lighting  her  face  and  shining  in  her  eyes  ;  "  yet  with 
all  its  vexations  I  sometimes  think  it  is  a  noble  vocation, 
though  accident,  and  not  choice^  caused  me  to  become  a 
teacher,  and  perhaps  were  I  rich  now,  I  would  not  teach." 

"  What  would  be  if  you  had  your  choice  ?"  he  inquired. 

A  sudden  crimson  suffused  her  cheeks  ;  it  w^as  almost 
like  betraying  herself  to  avow  her  predilection  for  draw- 
ing and  painting,  but  after  a  moment  she  said  : 

"  An  artist  is  what  I  should  like  to  be  above  all  things. 
I  think  if  I  had  it  in  my  i^ower  to  study  painting  under 
the  best  masters  and  to  go  to  Rome,  and  if  I  could  embody 
my  ideas  and  thus  attain  to  my  ideal  of  perfection  in 
painting,  I  should  be  perfectly  hapi3y." 

"  Perfectly  happy  !"  he  repeated  ;  "  a  woman  perfectly 
happy  from  gratitied  ambition  ?  You  remember  the  words 
of  one  who  must  have  known  the  depths  of  the  feminine 
heart— herself  a  noble  woman:  'Thou  shalt  have  fame, 
Oh  mockery  !' " 

"Yes,"  she  replied,  "I  remember  it  well,  but  I  re- 
member, too,  one  greater  than  she  said  that  '  All  is  vanity 
and  vexation  of  spirit'  " 

"I  believe,"  said  he,  with  an  earnestness  that  surprised 
her,   "that  there  are  degrees  of  happiness,  even  in   this 


OR  hope's  first  school.  95 

world,  and  I  am  inclined  to  think  that  love  bears  away  the 
jDrecedence  from  fame." 

"  Perliaps  so/'  she  replied  in  a  very  matter  of  fact 
manner,  "  yet  may  there  not  be  sham  in  all  V 

Rodney  Gilbert  was  disappointed  in  her  answer.  He 
had  expected,  as  quite  usual  for  him,  to  hear  a  blushing 
denial  of  any  knowledge  of  love,  instead  of  the  common- 
sense  she  took  of  the  subiect  and  the  coolness  with  which 
she  treated  it.  Hope  was  a  mystery  to  him,  as  he  was  to 
her.     Just  then  she  glanced  at  her  watch. 

"Our  conversation  is  out,  Mr.  Gilbert,  for  the  r)resent. 
I  will  have  to  ring  the  bell  for  school  again.  I  trust  the 
next  time  you  see  me  I  will  not  be  in  tears." 

"  May  they  never  flow  from  a  more  serious  cause,"  said 
he  gallantly,  as  he  took  his  leave.  "  Aii  rewir,  Miss 
Caldwell." 

It  rained  after  his  departure,  and  the  showier  had  not 
ceased  when  the  hour  for  dismissing  the  scholars  arrived. 
Hope  disliked  the  idea  of  walking  home  through  the  wet, 
but  there  was  no  hope  for  it.  Luckily  she  had  her  water- 
proof, overshoes  and  umbrella,  and  she  started  bravely  on 
through  the  shower,  striving  with  all  her  might  to  keep  her 
skirt  from  contact  with  the  mud  with  one  hand,  while  she 
grasped  the  umbrella  in  the  other.  She  had  not  advanced 
flfty  steps  before  she  heard  the  sound  of  horse's  feet  and  the 
rattle  of  wheels,  and  in  a  moment  Rodney  Gilbert  rode  up 
in  his  phaeton.     He  was  out  of  it  in  a  second. 

"Allow  me  to  see  you  home.  Miss  Caldwell.  I  hurried 
to  the  school-house  to  be  in  time,  but  you  were  gone.  The 
boys,  too,  can  go  with  us." 

Hope  would  rather  have  walked  than  for  him  to  have 
seen  her  in  her  present  plight,  but  she  accepted  his  offer 
nevertheless.  About  half  w^ay  to  Mr.  Watkins  they  met 
that  gentleman  in  his  buggy  coming  for  Hope  and  his 
children,  and  just  then  the  sun  burst  out  shining  through 
the  drops  of  rain. 


96  THEN   AND    NOW  ; 

"  You  have  forestalled  me,  I  see,  Mr.  G-ilbert ;  well,  I 
expect  you  will  not  object  to  my  taking  Jamie  and  Willie. 
I  will  not  take  Miss  Caldwell,  however." 

"No,  indeed,  I  would  not  submit  to  that,"  said  Rodney 
in  a  jesting  tone. 

"You  might  have  to  if  I  should  choose  to  leave  you," 
she  replied. 

"You  would  not  be  so  ungenerous  as  to  do  that,  I  know, 
and  besides,  if  it  does  not  continue  to  rain,  you  will  oblige 
me  by  going  with  me  to  see  Miss  Estelle  Moran,  will 
you  not?" 

"  I  do  not  know^,"  she  said.  "  I  am  hardly  tit  to  see,  or 
rather  to  visit,  a  stranger,  and  besides,  I  may  get  to  school 
too  late." 

"  School  again  !  Miss  Caldwell,  take  my  advice  ;  do  not 
aspire,  in  your  earl}"  youth  too,  to  a  martyr's  fate,  without 
his  crowm,  as  assuredly  will  be  your  lot  if  you  let  your 
work  shut  you  out  of  all  pleasure.  May  I  picture  your 
future  if  you  pursue  this  course  ?" 

She  gave  a  laughing  assent. 

"  You  will  spend  all  your  youth  in  the  narrow  routine 
of  the  school-room,  for  you  will  be  too  absorbed  in  your 
work  to  care  for  love  and  marriage  ;  and  w^hen  your  best 
days  are  spent  in  the  vain  effort  to  please  peojjle  who  will 
pay  you  the  least  price  they  can  procure  your  services  for  ; 
when  the  bloom  of  youth  is  gone,  j^ou  will  see  yourself 
edged  aside  for  girls  far  inferior  to  you,  and  your  whole 
future  life  will  be  embittered  by  vain  regrets  for  youth 
wasted  in  martyrdom  to  duty." 

"A  terrible  picture,"  said  she.  "  You  are  worse  than 
Cassandra  herself." 

"  May  I  reverse  it  ?" 

"Certainly  ;  I  should  like  to  see  it  reversed." 

"Spend  your  youth  as  it  should  be;  give  yourself  all 
needful  recreation  ;  enjoy  your  life  ;  fall  in  love  with  some 


OR  hope's  first  school.  97 

fellow  worthy  of.  you,  and  in  future  years  you  will  have 
some  one  to  love  and  take  care  of  you,  and  will  be  the 
guiding  star  in  some  pleasant  home." 

"Perhaps,"  she  said  doubtfully;  "but  love  cannot 
come  at  one's  bidding,  and  your  picture  is  not  always 
realized,  even  when  people  seem  to  marry  hajipily." 

"  Very  true  ;  but  I  think  the  chances  for  happiness  much 
better  in  a  married  than  in  a  single  life." 

"Let  me  describe  my  life  as  I  hope  it  to  be,  should  I 
continue  in  my  present  profession." 

"  I  am  all  attention,"  he  replied. 

"I  shall  work  faithfully  on,  day  after  day,  feeling  thatl 
am  no  drone  in  the  great  hive  of  life,  but  am  a  faithful 
worker.  I  shall  live  frugally  and  save  up  enough  each 
year  to  enable  me  to  live  independently  when  youth  has 
departed,  and  my  last  days  I  shall  spend  quietly  but  in- 
dustriously, absorbed  in  books,  in  painting,  in  work, 
thinking  and  caring  naught  for  who  outshines  me  in 
society." 

"There  is  no  convincing  you;  you  are  a  regular  phi- 
losopher, I  see.  Still  I  hope  for  you,  as  I  do  for  my  other 
lady  friends,  that  you  will  never  be  an  old  maid,"  said 
Rodney.  "  If  you  wish  to  do  good  you  can  carry  out  your 
schemes  married  as  well  as  single.  Marry  one  as  good  as 
my  old  schoolmate  Herbert  Ransom,  and  you  will  have 
your  hands  full  assisting  him  in  his  good  works." 

"No,  no  ;  he  seems  too  lofty  in  his  aims,  too  lifted  up 
above  every-day  motives  to  ever  think  of  loving  any  one, 
far  less  a  girl  like  I  am,  sinful  and  weak." 

"  A  girl  like  you  !"  echoing  her  words.  "  He  might  feel 
I)roud  of  ever  winning  your  regard." 

A  deep,  deep  blush  dyed  her  cheeks  as  he  said  this,  and 
she  rej)lied  almost  scornfully  : 

"  A  truce  to  compliments,  if  you  please.  1  do  not  fancy 
them,  and  more  particularly  if  I  do  not  deem  them  sincere." 


08  THEN   AND   NOW  ; 

"  Not  sincere  !  what  reason  have  you  for  doubting  me  ?" 
"  Probably  a  better  one  than  you  can  imagine,  but  one 
which  I  should  not  like  to  tell  you,  and  that  reminds  me — 
what  did  you  think  when  I  told  you  that  I  thought  the 
author  of  '  Passing  Thoughts '  was  a  morose  and  gloomy 
person  ?  I  know  now  who  is  the  author,  though  I  did  not 
know  it  then." 

"I  thought  that  you  spoke  truth,  though  I  must  own  it 
made  me  feel  quite  badly  to  think  that  you  had  so  poor  an 
opinion  of  me." 

"Mr.  Gilbert,  I  cannot  help  thinking  that  you  speak 
ironically,  yet  as  I  cannot  truthfully  retract  the  opinion  I 
then  expressed,  you  will  have  to  make  the  best  of  it.  I 
am  sorry  if  it  hurt  your  feeling  in  any  way.  I  did  it  un- 
consciously though,  believe  me." 

" But  you  have  your  wish,"  said  he;   "j^ou  know  the 
author  of  '  Passing  Thoughts.'  " 
"It  is  very  strange,"  she  replied. 
"Quite  romantic,  is  it  not  ?" 
"Very,"  said  she,  absently. 

By  this  time  they  had  reached  Mr.  Watkins'  gate.  The 
rain  had  entirely  ceased  and  the  brief  time  before  nightfall 
bade  fair  to  be  pleasant,  and  after  a  moment's  hesitation, 
Hope  decided  to  continue  her  ride  to  Mrs.  Moran's.  The 
rest  of  the  way  Rodney  Gilbert  entertained  her  with 
accounts  of  different  scenes  and  incidents  of  his  past  life, 
and  proved  himself  a  very  entertaining  companion.  Hope 
had  not  thought  him  handsome  before,  but  when  his  dark 
eyes  were  lighted  uj)  with  animation,  and  when  in  smiling 
he  displayed  a  lovely  set  of  teeth,  he  was  certainly  far 
better  looking  than  the  majority  of  men. 

It  was  nightfall  when  they  reached  Mrs.  Moran  s.  Estelle 
was  in  waiting  to  welcome  them  and  conducted  Hope  into 
a  room  to  lay  aside  her  waterproof  and  hat,  and  thence 
into  the  parlor.     Tp  Hope's  profound  astonishment,  Daniel 


OK  hope's  fikst  school.  99 

Young  soon  made  his  appearance,  and  was  as  cordial  as 
ever.  It  was  evident  that  Rodney  Gilbert's  attention  to  her 
had  excited  his  spirit  of  rivalry.  During  that  evening  he 
was  talking  to  her  or  promenading,  while  Rodney  was 
paying  especial  attention  to  Estelle.  There  was  music  on 
the  piano  and  singing.  Later  in  the  evening  Nathan  Allison 
came  with  a  young  lady,  and  these,  with  Mrs.  Moran, 
formed  quite  a  lively  party.  Hope,  whenever  she  could, 
conversed  with  Mrs.  Moran,  who  was  a  very  pleasant  com- 
panion. The  hours  sped  by  swiftly.  Daniel  Young  con- 
tinued to  be  unusually  agreeable,  though  Hope  could  not 
forget  his  words  that  she  had  overheard,  and  treated  him 
quite  indifferently.  Nathan  Allison  who  seemed,  Hope 
thought,  in  love  with  Estelle,  helped  them  in  singing. 
They  were  looking  at  the  album  together,  and  Hope  noticed 
the  next  morning  that  the  space  occuj)ied  by  Estelle' s  pho- 
tograph was  empty,  and  she  judged  rightly  that  the 
picture  had  been  given  him  by  Estelle.  She  had  ever 
thought  well  of  him,  and  could  not  lieli^  judging  that  he 
would  prove  a  most  excellent  husband  to  any  girl  whom 
he  might  marry. 

Once  during  the  evening  Rodney  Gilbert  sat  beside  Hope 
and  looked  over  a  volume  containing  many  charming 
pictures  of  scenes  in  Greece  and  Italy.  He  watched  her 
dark  eyes  glisten  and  sparkle  as  she  surveyed  the  picture 
of  the  Coliseum. 

"I  have  wandered  among  the  ruins  of  the  Coliseum  by 
moonlight,",  said  he,  "and  words  would  be  entirely  inade- 
quate to  describe  the  marvelous  charm  which  lingers 
around  it.  The  mind  is  oppressed  with  the  tide  of  recol- 
lection which  sweei)S  over  it,  surrounded  by  this  relic  of  a 
dead  but  mighty  past." 

"Yet  a  past  which  I  glory  in  thinking  is  forever  past, 
notwithstanding   the    mystic    spell   attached    to    the  old 


100  THEN   AND   NOW  ; 

Romans,"  she  replied.  "  What  is  all  the  glory  of  Pagan 
Rome  compared  with  the  dazzling  splendor  of  tlie  nine- 
teenth century  f ' 

"  Past !  Present !  Future !  have  they  not  all  a  charm  of 

their  own  ?" 

"  All  but  the  present.     You  forget  the  verse  which  says  : 

'  Still  we  tread  the  same  causeway, 
The  iiresent's  still  a  cloudy  day.'  " 

"Yes,"  said  he,  "  the  past  has  a  dim,  illusory  charm  of 
its  own ;  the  future,  a  glory  thrown  around  it  by  a  too 
sanguine  imagination  ;  and  the  present :  are  we  not  quite 
comfortable  this  evening  ?" 

"Oh,  yes;  we  have  passed  the  evening  very  comfort- 
ably—music, mirth  and  social  cheer  have  conspired  to 
render  it  exceedingly  agreeable  to  me." 

"And  the  society  of  Mr.  Young— has  he  not  been  a 
decided  addition  to  the  pleasure  of  the  evening?"  said  he, 
with  a  scrutinizing  look  in  his  eyes. 

"Not  more  so  than  every  other  member  of  this  pleasant 
company,"  a  spice  of  coolness  in  her  tones,  for  she  did  not 
like  this  direct  questioning. 

Rodney  Gilbert  saw  the  expression  half  of  anger,  and 
hastily  changed  the  subject. 

The  hour  for  retiring  came  all  too  early,  and  the  morning 
sun  was  shining  brightly  when  Hope  awoke.  After  making 
her  toilet  she  walked  out  on  the  piazza.  Mrs.  Moran's 
X)lace  was  very  pleasant,  with  long  piazzas,  wide  rooms  and 
a  superfluity  of  windows  ;  with  ivy-wreathed  trees  in  the 
front  yards,  the  ivy  forming  a  festoon  from  one  tree  to  the 
other.  Then  there  was  a  tlower  yard,  though  only  a  few 
flowers  had  survived  the  November  frosts,  and  Hope 
thought  she  had  never  seen  a  place  better  suited  to  read 
and  dream  and  meditate.  "To  dream  of  what  or  whom  1" 
she  soliloquized,  and  then  involuntarily  she  thought  of 
Greece   and  Rome,    and  with   them   of  Rodney  Gilbert. 


OR  hope's  first  school.  101 

Why  should  he  haunt  her  thoughts'^  She  did  not  really 
like  him,  yet  something  was  ever  throwing  him  in  her  path. 
"If  I  believed  in  an  evil  genius,"  thought  she,  "  I  should 
say  that  Rodney  Gilbert  is  mine." 

"Good  morning.  Miss  Caldwell,"  said  Daniel  Young. 
"  Will  you  accept  of  a  present  f  and  he  handed  h-er  a  tiny 
bouquet — a  geranium  leaf  and  a  late  rosebud.  She  thanked 
him,  took  it  and  pinned  it  at  her  throat  with  her  breast- 
pin. During  the  few  moments  before  breakfast  he  did 
his  best  to  play  the  agreeable,  but  Hope  could  never 
forget  that  he  had  spoken  so  carelessly  of  her,  and  he  felt 
that  there  was  an  insuperable  obstacle  to  their  friendship, 
though  very  far  from  guessing  the  real  truth.  He  ascribed 
his  loss  of  favor  to  Rodney  Gilbert  or  Herbert  Ransom,  he 
could  not  tell  which. 

Hope's  ride  to  school  that  morning  was  a  rapid  one,  and 
she  came  very  near  being  out  of  time. 

"Thank  you.  Miss  Caldwell,  for  comi^lying  with  my 
request,"  said  Mr.  Gilbert.  "I  have  had  a  most  enjoyable 
time." 

"  So  have  I,  and  my  headache  is  completely  cured, 
thanks  to  your  skill.  Fresh  air,  exercise  and  pleasant 
company  are  the  best  medicines  after  all." 

"  I  should  certainly  take  pleasure  in  administering  these 
remedies  whenever  you  are  afflicted  with  a  similar  attack, 
but  I  shall  not  be  here  for  four  weeks.  lam  going  to  New 
York,  and  shall  visit  a  friend  in  the  upi^er  part  of  the 
State  upon  my  return,  and  shall  not  see  you  again  under  a 
month.     Good  bye." 

He  clasped  the  little  hand  very  tightly  when  bidding  her 
adieu,  and  though  she  said  to  herself  that  she  neither  ad- 
mired nor  liked  him,  an  indefinable  sense  of  loneliness 
crept  over  Hope  as  she  caught  the  last  glimpse  of  his 
vehicle  disappearing  in  the  distance.  And  her  wonted 
tasks  lost  some  of  their  interest  to  her,  so  much  absorbed 
was  she  in  pondering  over  the  events  of  yesterday. 


102  THEN   AND   NOW  ; 


CHAPTER   XI. 


Hope  worked  on  with  untlagging  interest  in  her  school, 
rising  betimes  and  sitting  nj)  beyond  the  usual  bed-time  of 
country  peoi)le,  to  accomplish  all  that  she  had  planned  to 
do.  Rodney  Gilbert's  advice  to  her,  "not  to  make  a 
martyr  of  herself,"  was  by  no  means  uncalled  for,  though 
destined  to  be  disregarded  by  her,  "A  place  for  every- 
thing, everything  in  its  place  ;  a  time  for  everything, 
everything  in  its  time" — how  easy  it  is  to  repeat  these 
rules,  yet  how  difficult  to  invariably  observe  them  our- 
selves or  to  enforce  their  observance  in  others.  Perhaps 
nothing  in  her  school  life  gave  our  heroine  more  trouble 
than  to  require  her  pupils  to  carry  out  this  precept.  She 
had  strictly  forbidden  borrowing  in  her  school,  believing  it 
to  be  a  habit  extremely  detrimental  to  the  character,  yet, 
as  is  the  disposition  of  children,  they  were  waiting  for  an 
opportunity  every  day  to  break  this  rule  without  punish- 
ment. We  will  give  the  reader  a  descrij^tion  of  two  little 
scenes  in  the  school-room,  one  before  and  one  after  her 
making  a  rule  against  borrowing.  One  day  before  the 
necessity  of  such  a  requirement  Avas  apparent  to  her,  (for 
all  teachers  must  learn  by  experience,)  Hope  noticed  that 
little  Harry  Ambler  was  not,  as  usual  at  that  hour,  cii)her- 
ing  on  his  slate. 

"  What  is  the  matter,  Harr^^  ?"  she  inquired. 

"  I  haven't  any  pencil.  Miss  Hope." 

"  No  pencil !  what  have  you  done  with  the  one  you  had 
yesterday  ?" 

"  I  loaned  it  to  Miss  Helen  Hartwell  and  she  lost  it," 
said  Harry,  tears  gathering  in  the  brown  eyes,  both  from 
grief  at  loss  of  the  pencil  and  apprehension  in  regard  to 


OR  hope's  first  school.  103 

some  punishment  being  inflicted  on  him  for  allowing  the 
needed  article  to  be  misplaced.  What  could  be  done  ? 
For  the  remainder  of  the  evening  Harry  had  to  substitute 
some  other  lesson  for  his  ciphering,  as  no  crayons  had  yet 
been  provided  for  the  blackboard,  and  Hope  then  forbade 
her  scholars  to  borrow  jDencil,  slate  or  book  from  each 
other  thereafter.  Shortly  after  this  she  noticed  another 
pupil  idle  who  should  have  been  ciphering.  It  was  Mary 
Hartwell  this  time. 

"Why  are  you  idle,  Mary  ?"  she  asked. 

"  Because,  Miss  Caldwell,  I  have  no  pencil,  and  you  will 
not  let  us  borrow.  Violet  Leonard  would  lend  me  one 
were  it  not  against  the  rule." 

"No,"  said  Hope,  "I  cannot  allow  that.  Study  your 
tables  this  evening,  and  to-morrow  I  will  see  what  can  be 
done." 

So  on  the  morrow  she  bought  a  box  of  crayons  and  a 
number  of  pencils,  and  armed  with  these  she  expected  to 
have  peace  for  some  time.  But  what  child  does  not  love  a 
new  article  better  than  an  old  one  ?  What  child  is  it  that 
will  not  willingly  lose  an  old  book,  or  slate,  or  pencil  even, 
if  the  one  by  which  it  is  replaced  is  not  of  half  as  good 
quality  as  the  lost  one?  It  required  the  utmost  strictness 
in  giving  out  crayons  and  pencils  to  the  pupils  in  order  to 
prevent  wilful  waste.  Of  course  the  teacher's  patience  was 
sorely  tried,  yet  who  could  punish  a  child  severely  for 
using  the  two  little  w^ords  which  so  many  grown  people 
consider  a  sufficient  excuse  for  every  delinquency,  "I 
forgot." 

"  I  forgot,  Miss  Hope,"  said  Roy  Wilkins,  "  and  put  my 
pencil  in  my  trousers'  pocket,  the  pair  I  had  on  last  week, 
and  so  I  left  the  pencil  home  to-day." 

"Did  I  not  tell  you  to  leave  your  pencil  in  your  desk  ?" 

"Yes,  ma'am,  but  if  I  do  somebody  gets  them." 

That  omnipresent  "somebod\%''  what  a  hard  fellow  he 


104  THEN    AND    NOW  ; 

is  to  get  hold  of  !  And  as  of  course  the  desks  had  no 
locks,  no  one  could  deny  the  justice  of  the  charge,  yet  no 
one  could  be  brought  to  punishment  for  it.  Such  was  the, 
little  vexations  which  Hope  was  called  on  to  endure.  Small 
in  themselves,  yet  more  trying  to  the  patience  than  the 
severest  stroke  of  fate  ;  the  one  stinging  like  a  swarm  of 
sand  flies  ;  the  other  crushing  out  hope  at  one  blow.  But 
her  life  was  not  all  darkness.  There  were  times  when, 
sorely  tried,  she  was  ready  to  exclaim  with  the  Psalmist, 
"Oh  that  I  had  wings  like  a  dove,  for  then  would  I  fly 
away  and  be  at  rest  i"  but  at  other  times  she  rejoiced  at 
the  thought  that  she  was  a  teacher,  as  she  felt  sure  that 
next  to  parents,  they  have  the  greatest  influence  over  the 
minds  of  the  young. 

We  have  mentioned  three  sisters,  without  calling  their 
names,  toward  whom  Ho^^e  felt  an  unbidden  attachment 
spring  up  in  her  heart.  Katharine,  Cornelia  and  Nellie 
Turnage  were  kind,  tender-hearted  girls,  who  seemed  never 
weary  of  accommodating  their  teacher,  and  of  showing  her 
by  every  act  in  their  power  that  they  loved  her,  and  their 
present  of  flowers,  brought  so  frequently  when  in  season, 
afforded  Hope  as  much  real  pleasure  as  though  they  had 
bestowed  the  costliest  gifts.  Toward  her  scholars,  though, 
she  tried  to  be  strictly  impartial.  Nor  was  this  a  difficult 
matter  to  be,  for  with  the  majority  of  them,  when  one  good 
quality  was  lacking,  its  want  was  amply  supplied  by 
another.  Then,  too,  when  one  had  a  decided  turn  for  one 
study,  it  was  very  apt  to  be  deficient  in  something  else, 
and  when  there  was  no  especial  talent  for  anything,  Hoj^e 
still  regarded  a  pupil  with  interest,  and  her  sympathy  was 
more  deeply  awakened  in  behalf  of  those  seemingly  desti- 
tute of  gifts  than  toward  the  more  favored  ones  of  her 
school.  We  have  spoken  of  Johnnie  Twining.  It  was 
real!}'  a  joy  to  her  to  see  what  an  abundant  harvest  the 
good  seed  sown  in  his  heart  was  capable  of  bringing  forth. 


OR  hope's  first  school.  105 

Poor  little  untrained  boy  !  firmness  and  gentleness  com- 
bined were  so  new  to  him  as  to  fill  him  with  wonder  and  to 
cause  him  to  yield  a  ready  obedience  to  the  commands  of 
his  teacher.  He  was  never  weary  of  bringing  her  anything 
which  he  thought  would  be  of  interest  to  her — sometimes 
Howers,  at  others  a  tiny  pine  cone,  or  an  acorn,  or  a 
pebble,  and  she  would  explain  to  him  something  of  the 
nature  and  history  of  each,  to  which  explanation  he  would 
listen  with  the  closest  attention.  Apart  from  all  pecuniary 
consideration,  was  it  not  worth  toiling  for  to  rescue  even 
one  such  child  from  ignorance  and  vice  \  The  naughty  as 
well  as  the  good  boys  were  all  objects  of  care,  attention 
and  deep  interest  to  her.  She  contrived  too,  notwithstand- 
ing her  strictness,  to  gain  the  love  of  each  and  all.  But 
there  was  one  of  her  i^upils  who  would  have  won  the  affec- 
tion of  almost  any  instructor,  so  lovely  was  she  in  person 
and  disposition,  so  charming  in  mind  and  manner.  Her 
name  was  Violet  Leonard,  and  the  name  seemed  a  fitting 
one  for  the  little  one  who  bore  it.  She  was  about  seven 
years  old,  and  was  as  fragile  as  a  flower  ;  her  cheeks  some- 
times aglow  with  color,  and  at  others  as  pale  as  Alpine 
roses.  Her  eyes  were  of  a  clear,  transparent  blue,  and 
were  full  of  intellect,  while  the  exquisite  shape  of  her 
head,  the  delicacy  of  her  hands  and  feet,  and  the  almost 
indescribable  exj^ression  of  her  face — an  expression  de^ 
noting  extraordinary  refinement,  unusual  talent  and  rare 
spirituality  in  one  so  young -invested  her  with  a  wonder- 
ful charm.  Add  to  this  a  sweet,  plaintive  voice  which 
touched  the  heart  at  once,  and  a  way  of  asking  questions 
and  of  making  remarks  all  too  deep  for  her  tender  j^ears, 
and  it  was  not  to  be  marveled  at  that  little  Violet  twined 
herself  very  closely  around  the  heart  of  her  teacher.  Hope 
had  heard,  too,  a  bit  of  Mrs.  Leonard's  history  which  in- 
terested her  deeply.  She  was  a  most  lovely,  religious, 
conscientious  w^oraan,  so  the  neighbors  said,  and  when  she 


* 


106  THEN    AND   NOW  ; 

married  Mr.  Leonard  it  was  considered  a  most  suitable 
match.  He  was  young,  handsome,  talented,  easy  in  manner 
and  brilliant  in  conversation — possessed,  too,  of  consider- 
able means.  Habits  acquired  in  early  youth,  and  the  in- 
fluence of  evil  associates  after  his  marriage,  were  his  ruin. 
That  which  has  wrecked  so  many  noble  lives,  which  has 
blasted  so  many  fond  hopes,  was  his  curse  also.  Intem- 
perance had  gradually  blunted  every  generous  feeling  of 
his  nature.  His  j^roperty  dwindled  away,  and  at  last, 
much  against  his  wife's  wish,  he  opened  a  bar-room — "the 
grog  shop  at  the  forks  of  the  road,"  the  children  called  it. 
Oar  heroine  pitied  Mrs.  Leonard  deeply,  and  her  interest 
in  little  Violet  was  enhanced  by  a  knowledge  of  her  mother' s 
sad  lot.  Often  during  recess  would  A^iolet  come  in  the 
school-room  and,  sitting  down  by  her  teacher,  ask  her 
strange  questions  of  God  and  Heaven,  and  of  the  unseen 
world — queries  too  deep  for  the  wisest  to  solve  ;  such  as  if 
she  were  to  die  now  would  she  grow  up  in  Heaven  or  would 
she  remain  a  little  child  ;  and  if  any  of  the  angels  lived  in 
the  moon  and  stars. 

"Violet,"  said  Hope  one  da}^  after  this  strange  ques- 
tioning, "  run  out  and  play,  child.  Don't  trouble  yourself 
with  such  matters  as  these  now  ;  wait  until  you  are  grown." 

"  But  suppose,"  said  she,  a  strange,  wistful  expression 
in  the  blue  eyes,  "I  never  live  to  be  grown.  I  will  not 
And  out." 

"  Oh  yes,"  replied  the  teacher,   "  then  you  would  know 

better  than  I  do,  for  then  you  w^ould  be  in  Heaven  with 
God  and  his  good  angels,"  and  fearing  tlie  effect  of  such 
deep  thought  in  one  so  young,  she  sent  her  out  to  play. 

Violet's  love  for  flowers  was  intense.  She  could  scarcely 
pass  one  without  wishing  to  pluck  it,  and  would  come 
laden  with  them  so  long  as  they  lasted,  and  when  the  frost 
killed  them  she  grieved  over  them  as  if  they  had  been  real 
live  pets  which  had  died.     Hope  was  not  personally  ac- 


OR  hope's  first  school.  107 

qiiainted  with  Mrs.  Leonard,  as  she  had  not  yet  called  on 
her.  She  seldom  visited  of  late  years,  Mrs.  Watkins 
had  informed  her.  Henry  Leonard,  Violet's  brother,  was  a 
handsome,  intelligent  child,  but  partook  more  largely  of 
his  father's  disi)osition  than  did  his  sweet  little  sister.  It 
was  a  positive  pleasure  to  teach  such  a  child  as  she  was— 
she  was  so  studious  and  so  anxious  to  please  her  teacher  ; 
but  luckily  for  themselves,  unluckily  for  Hope,  the  rest  of 
Jier  pupils  were  thorough  children  in  disposition— full  of 
romp  and  play,  and  not  over  anxious  to  learn.  Our  heroine 
made  a  resolution  never  to  let  a  day  pass  without  the 
children  imbibing  one  or  more  new  ideas,  and  never  to  let 
them  merely  repeat  words  without  some  insight  into  their 
meaning.  For  the  purpose  of  developing  their  powers  of 
observation  and  capacity  for  describing  anything,  she 
would  sometimes  require  them  to  give  a  description  of  the 
simplest  object,  using  correct  terms  and  being  perfectly 
true  to  nature  in  their  delineation.  This  exercise  she  found 
not  only  useful  to  the  children,  but  to  herself.  Every 
thing  she  learned  was  in  some  way  turned  to  advantage  in 
the  school-room  and  made  subservient  to  the  noble  end  of 
developing  the  mental  and  moral  powers  of  those  entrusted 
to  her  charge.  Even  her  cherished  drawings  and  paintings, 
which  had  before  occupied  her  time  and  attention,  took  a 
a  new  coloring  from  her  occupation.  She  planned  off  a 
picture  entitled,  ''The  Outcast,"  in  which  Johnnie  Twining, 
as  she  first  saw  him,  should  ajipear,  and  another  called 
"  A  Little  Child  Shall  Lead  Them,"  in  which  a  child,  with 
the  face  and  form  of  little  Violet,  was  beckoning  to  its 
parents  from  the  skies. 

About  three  or  four  weeks  after  Hope's  visit  to  Estelle, 
and  when  December,  with  its  chilling  blasts,  had  ushered 
in  the  Winter  season,  there  came  a  snow — a  lovely  snow, 
which  was  so  infrequent  an  occurrence  in  this  part  of  the 
country  as  to  be  hailed  with  astonishment  and  delight  by 


108  THEN    AND    NOW  ; 

all  of  the  school  children.  Hope's  spirit  always  rose  in 
the  same  ratio  as  the  thermometer  fell,  and  she  was  half 
wild  with  joy  when  she  waked  np  and  found  the  whole 
landscape  dazzling  white  with  its  wintry  blanket.  There 
would  be  no  school  that  day,  for  the  children  were  too  un- 
accustomed to  it  to  wade  through  the  snow  to  the  school- 
house,  and  after  breakfast  that  morning  she  went  out  in 
the  yard  and  engaged  in  the  very  dignified  business  of 
playing  snowball  with  James,  Willie  and  Robert  King. 
Clad  in  a  garnet  dress,  trimmed  in  black,  her  black  hair 
tied  with  garnet  ribbons,  her  eyes  twinkling  with  merri- 
ment, and  the  eifect  of  the  crisp,  wintry  air  apparent  in 
her  glowing  cheeks,  she  was  a  charming  object  to  look 
upon,  and  so  thought  Robert  King,  and  so  thought  Rodney 
Gilbert,  who  chanced  to  be  passing.  He  had  lately  returned 
from  his  trip,  and  lifted  his  hat  as  he  went  by.  He  was 
even  impolite  enough  to  look  back  at  the  two,  who  were 
pelting  each  other  with  snowballs  and  laughing  as  though 
the  world  was  all  gladness.  "She  is  a  puzzle,"  was  liis 
reflection  :  at  one  time,  dignified,  almost  to  sternness,  and 
crying  over  a  pang  of  conscience  which  others  would 
scarcely  think  of  ;  at  another  as  liappy  and  careless  as 
a  bird  set  free,  and  romping  like  a  child  ;  and  withal 
cherishing  ambitious  dreams  ;  I  don't  know  what  to  think 
of  her.  But  she  looks  decidedly  jDretty  just  now."  The 
result  of  his  meditations,  whatever  they  were,  was  a  visit 
to  Mr.  Watkins' that  very  evening.  Hope  Hushed  rosy  red 
when  she  heard  of  his  arrival.  She  was  busy,  however, 
and  did  not  go  into  the  parlor  until  her  equanimity  was 
restored.  She  greeted  Mr.  Gilbert  less  cordially  than  he 
thought  necessary,  after  several  weeks  absence.  Slie 
inquired  how  he   enjoyed  his  trip. 

"Pretty  well,"  he  replied,  "  though  I  am  equally  well 
if  not  better  satisfied  to  be  at  home  again.  I  wish  I  could 
have  been  in  your  romi3  this  morning.     I  do  not  think  I 


OR  hope's  first  school.  109 

have  seen  as  happy  a  crowd  since  I  left,  as  you  all 
seemed." 

•'  Well,  I  was  happy,  for  the  time  ;  i)erfectly  happy," 
she  replied.  "I  think  the  atmosphere  has  as  much  to  do 
with  one's  happiness  as  anything  else." 

"  Yes,  I  remember  what  was  said  when  we  parted,  about 
fresh  air,  exercise,  and  cheerful  company  being  the  best 
medicines,  and  I  think  you  have  been  trying  them  all  in 
my  absence  ;  for  I  never  saw  you  look  so  well." 

"lam  glad  to  hear  you  say  so,"  she  replied  mischiev- 
ously, "for  you  know  I  lacked  brightness  and  color; 
and  there  was  great  room  for  improvement  in  my  looks." 

"  Lack  brightness  and  color !  Who  ever  told  you  that  i 
Did  Mr.  Young?" 

"Did  anyone  ever  say  so?"  said  she,  with  a  merry  little 
laugh  ;  "if  so,  they  were  certainly  never  betrayed  by  Mr. 
Young." 

"Miss  Caldwell,  a  thousand  pardons,  but  before  I  knew 
you  well,  I  said  something  like  that,  but  I  can  assure  you 
I  have  had  cause  to  retract  my  opinion  more  than  once 
since,  and  have  long  ago  regretted  my  rashly  s^Doken  words. 
But  you  were  represented  to  me  as  a  being  more  beautiful 
than  common  mortals  ever  are  ;  and  my  imagination  had 
invested  you  with  angelic  charms.  I  trust,  though,  that 
you  will  forgive  a  too  free  expression  of  my  opinion,  when 
at  first  you  did  not  seem  to  reach  my  ideal." 

"I  have  nothing  to  forgive,  Mr.  Gilbert.  How  can  it 
possibly  affect  me,  whether  you  think  me  pretty  or  other- 
wise. I  do  not  wish  my  friends  to  like  me  for  my  looks, 
even  were  they  attractive  enough  to  gain  friends,  yet  you 
must  own  that  the  manner  in  w^hicli  I  learned  your  opinion 
of  my  personal  appearance,  was,  to  say  the  least,  embar- 
rassing in  the  extreme." 

And  in  her  candid  way  she  gave  him  a  brief  account  of 
how  she  had    overheard    the    conversation  between  him 


110  THEN  AND  NOW  ; 

and  Mr.  Young,  so  disparaging  to  her  charms.  "I 
do  not  wish  him  ever  to  know  that  I  heard  what  he 
said,"  she  continued,  alluding  to  the  latter  gentleman. 
"I  do  not  care  a  mite  for  any  criticism  on  my  personal 
appearance,  but  to  be  spoken  of  as  one  with  whom  to  carry 
on  a  pleasant  flirtation ;  as  one  to  be  taken  up  and  thrown 
away  at  pleasure,  yon  must  own,  is  rather  hard  to  bear." 

"  I  shonld  judge  so,"  said  Mr.  Gilbert. 

He  was  running  over  in  his  mind  every  word  of  the  con- 
versation which  Hope  had  so  unfortunately  overheard, 
and  could  not  help  feeling  annoyed.  "What  must  she 
think  of  him,  as  well  as  of  Mr.  Young?"  He  would  have 
now  given  much  to  recall  his  rashly  spoken  words.  Hope's 
beauty  had  grown  upon  him  ;  had  been  revealed  more  and 
more  every  time  he  saw  her,  until  now  he  could  analyze 
each  j)erfect  feature,  and  wonder  that  he  was  so  blind  as 
not  to  perceive  her  loveliness  upon  their  first  meeting.  "I 
was  a  fool,"  thought  he,  "  to  have  expressed  my  opinion 
of  her  so  soon,  and  if  she  is  like  other  women  she  will 
never  forgive  my  unflattering  words." 

If  she  cherished  any  resentment  against  him,  she  had, 
however,  a  most  charming  way  of  concealing  it,  for  she 
had  never  seemed  so  agreeable  to  him  as  on  this  Winter's 
evening,  nor  so  beautiful.  The  firelight  shed  a  ruddy  glow 
over  cheek,  brow  and  perfect  form  ;  mirth  beamed  in  the 
bright  eyes  and  parted  the  crimson  lips,  revealing  the 
pearly  teeth  between  ;  while  the  whole  face  was  framed  in 
its  wealth  of  curly  black  hair,  setting  it  off  as  a  handsome 
frame  does  a  lovely  picture.  Her  manners,  too,  seemed  to 
Rodney  more  graceful  and  fascinating  than  he  had  ever 
before  imagined  them.  Remembering  her  as  he  had  first 
seen,  and  as  he  now  beheld  her,  he  made  two  comparisons 
in  regard  to  the  difference  in  her  at  those  two  periods.  He 
thought  of  a  splendid  instrument  of  music,  when  sitting 
silent  and  dead  in  its  place,  and  of  the  same  instrument 


OR  hope's  fikst  school.  Ill 

when  some  master  hand  awoke  its  silent  chords  to  almost 
divine  harmony,  thrilling  the  whole  soul  with  rapture. 
Then  he  compared  her  to  Pymalion's  statue,  warmed  into 
life.  Perhaps  she  mentally  made  some  such  comparison  in 
regard  to  him.  His  dark  cheek  glowed,  his  eye  sparkled, 
and  his  conversation,  though  at  times  tinged  with  bitter- 
ness, was  extremely  interesting.  He  had  travelled  a  great 
deal,  and  had  thought  and  studied  deeply,  and  in  conver- 
sational power  was  superior  to  Daniel  Young.  In  her 
childish  manner  Hope  asked  him  questions  of  the  places 
where  he  had  been,  and  of  books  that  he  had  read,  of  which 
she  was  ignorant;  and  it  afforded  him  pleasure  to  give  her 
any  information  which  she  needed,  and  which  he  possessed. 
Her  confession  seemed  to  have  broken  down  the  barrier  of 
reserve  which  had  existed  between  them,  and  she  could 
now  talk  to  him  as  to  a  friend.  The  hours  passed  in  each 
other's  society  fled  away  so  swiftly,  on  this  occasion,  that 
neither  could  realize  how  they  passed,  yet  Rodney  retired 
that  night  with  an  aching  heart. 

"  It  is  wrong,"  he  soliloquized,  "  utterly  wrong  in  me, 
I  must  be  firm.  It  wiH  not  do.  The  little  witch  is  very 
fascinating,  yet  I  must  not  forget  everything  for  her.  No  ! 
I  will  not."  He  took  a  picture  from  his  pocket,  looked  at 
it  earnestly,  and  thus  continued:  "Miss  Hope  is  not  so 
pretty  as  she,  not  so  elegant,  hardly  as  witty,  and  has  not 
her  wonderful  voice,  yet  I  must  stay  out  of  her  society  or  I 
will  be  a  miserable  man,  and  might,  too,  render  her 
unhappy." 

Pursuant  to  this  resolution,  he  shiycd  away  from  Mr. 
Watkins'  for  several  weeks.  Hope  wondered  what  made 
him  so  whimsical,  but  she  had  so  much  to  do  as  to  give 
her  but  little  time  for  idle  reverie.  Then,  too,  there  were 
many  other  visitors  to  divert  her  mind  ;  and  the  time  Hed 
swiftly  away.  Christmas  holidays  were  now  tit  hand,  to 
the  great  joy  of  teacher  and  of  xuipils. 


112  THEN   AND   NOW 


CHAPTER  XII. 


Christmas  day  with  our  heroine  was  rather  a  dull  one. 
She  gave  holiday,  of  course  ;  aside  from  this,  and  her  giv- 
ing and  receiving  a  few  presents,  there  was  little  to  distin- 
guish the  day  from  any  other,  with  her.  With  the  chil- 
dren Santa  Claus  made  amends  for  all  deficiencies.  They 
were  half  frantic  with  delight  on  beholding  the  well  filled 
stockings  hung  by  the  mantel-piece  ;  and  so  well  did  they 
appreciate  the  good  things  therein,  that  before  night  Maud 
was  quite  sick,  and  James  and  Willie  were  tired  of  seeing 
confectioneries.  However,  on  the  next  morning,  all  arose 
in  good  health  and  spirits.  Hope  was  invited  to  a  dinner 
party  at  Mr.  Stuart's,  and  Charlie  Stuart,  the  brother  of 
Hattie  and  Mary,  whom  she  had  not  seen  on  her  former 
visit  to  his  father's,  came  after  her.  It  was  there  that 
she  met  with  Mr.  Rodney  Gilbert,  the  first  time  that  she 
had  seen  him  since  his  visit  to  Mr.  Watkins',  on  that  snowy 
night,  of  which  we  have  already  spoken.  He  seemed  to 
her,  upon  their  first  meeting  on  this  occasion,  extremely 
unsocial,  and  he  had  an  abstracted  look  about  him,  which 
did  not  add  to  his  comeliness.  Something  seemed  to  have 
gone  wrong  with  him.  Mr.  Young  was  also  at  Mr.  Stuart's. 
He  seemed  in  as  good  spirits  as  ever,  and  was  apparently 
as  fond  of  Hope's  society. 

There  were  quite  a  number  of  guests  at  Mr.  Stuart's  on 
this  occasion,  many  of  whom  our  heroine  had  never  before 
met.  Among  these  was  a  Miss  Myrtle— Miss  Juno  Myrtle 
—a  tall,  rather  graceful  looking  girl,  with  bright,  black 
eyes,  dark  skin,  a  beautiful  suit  of  glossy  black  hair,  and 
an  air  of  style  about  her  which  rendered  her  quite  attract- 
ive.    Add  to  this  that  she  was  a  bright,  witty  girl,  and 


OR  hope's  first  school.  113 

almost  a  marvel  in  conversational  power,  considering  lier 
limited  chances,  and  you  have  as  near  a  description  of 
Miss  Juno  Myrtle  as  we  can  well  give.  Miss  Mary  Allison, 
a  cousin  of  Mr.  Nathan  Allison,  was  a  young  lady  rather 
below  than  above  the  medium  height  of  women,  with  light 
hair,  a  fair,  ruddy  comi)lexion,  intelligent  blue  eyes,  a 
pretty  foot,  and  a  very  plain,  but  very  neat  style  of  dress- 
ing. She  was  a  teacher  in  a  high  school — a  girl  of  more 
than  ordinary  intellect,  and  one  with  a  warm,  tender  heart; 
yet,  who  was  withal,  so  full  of  mirth  and  fun,  and  so  irre- 
sistibly comic  in  her  speech  and  manner,  as  to  be  the  life 
of  any  crowd  she  chanced  to  be  in.  Just  now  she  was 
entertaining  a  coterie  of  ladies  and  gentlemen — her 
witticisms  provoking  much  good  humored  laughter  from 
those  around  her.  Ada  Crawford,  a  prettily  formed,  curly 
haired,  brown-eyed  little  lady,  with  a  childish  love  of  fun, 
and  a  cheerful,  light-hearted  temperament ;  one  who  saw 
"  the  silver  lining  to  every  cloud,"  and  looked  forward 
with  bright  hopes  to  the  future,  no  matter  how  dark  the 
I)resent  might  be,  was  another  one  introduced  to  Hope 
that  day.  Her  dress  and  general  aj)pearance  put  our 
heroine  in  mind  of  a  sparrow,  so  exquisitely  neat  and 
fitting  was  her  apparel ;  so  light  and  petit  her  general 
appearance.  Her  frank  way  of  speaking  Hope  admired 
very  much.  Whatever  might  be  her  foibles  deceit  was  not 
one  of  them.  Nina  Harrington,  a  young  girl  of  sixteen 
summers,  a  rosy-cheeked  Hebe — the  living  impersonation 
of  perfect  youth  and  perfect  health— came  next  in  order  of 
introduction.  Her  blue  dress,  with  white  lace  at  the  neck 
and  in  the  sleeves,  set  off  her  fair  skin  and  rosy  cheeks  ; 
the  glossy  brown  hair  was  drawn  away  from  the  white 
brow  and  arranged  very  plainly,  revealing  the  perfect 
shape  of  her  head  ;  the  small,  pretty  feet  which  her  misses 
dress  betrayed,  looked  even  smaller  in  the  kid  buttoned 
shoes,  and  her  appearance,  taken  altogether,  was  charming, 


114  THEN   AND   NOW  ; 

Rachel  Bruce,  a  young  lady  of  medium  height,  with  a 
slender,  graceful  figure,  soft,  dark  skin,  pretty  teeth,  and  a 
magnificent  suit  of  black  hair,  was  a  girl  whom  to  know 
well  was  to  love,  so  sweet  and  amiable  was  her  disposition. 
Her  maroon-colored  dress,  trimmed  in  brocaded  velvet  of  a 
darker  shade,  was  extremely  becoming  to  her  ;  and  among 
her  dark  locks  was  carelessly  placed  a  geranium,  with  its 
red  flowers.  Cora  Cromartie  was  a  tall,  queenly  looking 
woman,  with  complexion  like  a  blusli  rose,  golden  hair, 
pretty  hands,  and  an  air  of  native  grace  and  freedom  about 
her,  reminding  one  of  the  movements  of  a  deer.  Her  cousin, 
Emma  Cromartie,  was  alike  her  in  complexion  and  the 
color  of  her  hair,  but  much  stouter.  She  was  a  most  lovely 
young  lady. 

Such  were  the  youthful  members  of  the  female  sex 
assembled  at  Mr.  Stuart's,  besides  Mary  and  Hatty,  Estelle 
Moran  and  Hope.  There  was,  besides  these,  a  goodly 
sprinkling  of  married  ladies,  and  some  few  single  ones  n  o 
longer  young.  Mrs.  Ambler,  the  mother  of  Harry,  Mrs. 
Powers,  Mrs.  Turnnage,  Mrs.  Hunter  and  Mrs.  Wheeler  were 
all  there.  The  most  of  these  ladies  were  good  looking, 
intelligent  and  pleasant.  As  all  had  either  one  or  more 
children  attending  Hope's  school,  they  of  course  felt  both 
curiosity  and  interest  in  regard  to  the  teacher,  whom  they 
had  never  met  before.  They  seemed  to  vie  with  each  other 
as  to  which  one  should  show  her  the  most  respect  and 
attention,  and  she,  in  turn,  was  affable  and  sociable  with 
all. 

"Miss  Caldwell,"  said  Mrs.  AmblerandMrs.  Turnnage  in 
a  breath,  "  you  really  deserve  credit  for  advancing  your 
scholars  so  rapidly,  when  this  is  your  first  attempt,  too.  I 
feel  proud  of  my  children's  progress.  We  all  know,  too, 
how  difficult  it  is  to  manage  them  at  home,  and  appreciate 
your  efforts  to  train  them  well,  very  much  indeed." 


OR  hope's  first  school.  115 

"  I  declare.  Miss  Caldwell,"  remarked  Mrs.  Powers,  "  I 
was  both  amused  and  provoked  when  Mr.  Powers  told  me 
how  old  Mrs.  Simmons  talked  to  you.  I  thought  to 
myself,  she  will  think  strangely  of  our  neighborhood; 
but  you  must  rememember  that  at  a  country  school,  very 
often  all  classes  are  thrown  indiscriminately  together. 
This  is  the  first  time  Mrs.  Simmons  ever  sent  her  children 
to  any  but  a  public  school.  The  trustees,  in  consideration 
of  her  poverty  and  widowhood,  agreed  to  let  her  boys  come 
for  a  merely  nominal  sum,  and  I  suppose  she  thought, 
with  the  jealousy  common  to  some  people,  that  her  chil- 
dren might  be  treated  with  injustice  by  the  teacher,  and  so 
she  determined  to  give  her  orders  beforehand." 

"In  regard  to  text-books,  Miss  Caldwell,"  remarked 
Mrs.  Tiirnnage,  "I  must  say  for  the  patrons  of  the  school, 
that  the  teachers  have  been  changed  so  often,  and  books 
accordingly,  that  some  of  them— particularly  the  j)oorer 
ones — have  become  comi^letely  discouraged,  and  almost 
vow,  sometimes,  that  they  will  never  iDurchase  a  new  book 
for  their  children  whenever  an  old  one  will  answer  the 
purpose.  Then,  too,  some  of  the  books  are  torn  up  and 
destroyed  by  the  children,  so  that  it  is  a  difficult  matter  to 
muster  up  books  enough,  of  the  same  kind,  to  properly 
classify  your  pupils." 

"I  have  tbem  all  classified  now,"  replied  Hoj^e.  "  The 
majority  of  my  patrons  were  quite  willing  to  buy  the 
necessary  books,  and  those  who  were  not  1  furnished  my- 
self, so  that  now  I  have  no  trouble." 

"You  don't  mean  to  say  you  bought  the  books  and 
gave  them  away." 

"Certainly,"  she  replied,  "this  is  far  better  than  to 
work  under  the  disadvantages  I  would  have  done  with- 
out." 

"Well,"  said  Mrs.  Hunter,  who  had  not  yet  spoken, 
"  that  beats  all !    I  would  not  have  done  it." 


116  THEN   AND   NOW  ; 

"  Miss  Caldwell,"  remarked  Mrs.  Ambler,  "  I  was  highly 
amused  at  Harry,  when  he  told  me  of  the  little  incidents 
in  regard  to  the  pencils.  Poor,  little  fellow  ;  it  seems  that 
his  pencils  slip  away  from  him.  You  must  have  your 
patience  sorely  tried  sometimes." 

"I  do,"  replied  the  teacher,  frankly,  "  but  I  looked  for 
that  in  the  beginning,  and  so  am  better  prepared  for  it." 

"I  think,"  said  Mrs.  Turnnage,  "that  you  were  intended 
for  a  teacher." 

Hope  smiled  a  little  bitterly. 

"One  can  make  anything  that  is  in  human  power  a 
success,  by  simply  devoting  every  energy  of  the  soul  to 
it,"  she  answ^ered.  "  I  never  dreamed  of  being  a  teacher  a 
year  ago,  so  there  was  surelj^  no  natural  bent  of  my  mind 
toward  that  profession.  Yet,  now  that  I  have  entered  upon 
it,  I  think  scarcely  any  calling  nobler  or  grander." 

As  she  spoke,  enthusiasm,  which  was  a  part  of  her  very 
nature,  gave  a  richer  glow  to  the  velvet  cheek,  a  brighter 
light  to  the  dark  eyes. 

"  What  a  lovely  girl  Miss  Caldwell  is,"  they  all  remark- 
ed, as  she  went  to  another  i)art  of  the  apartment.  I  doubt 
very  much  whether  she  well  bury  herself  in  a  country 
school  house  long,  when  she  is  so  well  fitted  to  shine  in 
society." 

"What  a  beautiful  diamond  breast-pin,"  reriiarked  Mrs. 
Powers,  "and  that  black  dress  fits  her  to  perfection." 

If  such  were  the  remarks  made  by  those  of  her  own 
sex,  one  could  not  wonder  that  Hope  was  admired  by  the 
gentlemen  of  the  crowd.  Besides  those  whom  we  have 
already  introduced  to  the  reader,  all  of  whom,  except 
Herbert  Kansom,  were  present,  she  was  to-day  formally 
introduced  to  quite  a  number,  some  of  whom  we  will 
describe. 

Egbert  Lyons  was  a  bachelor,  over  fifty  years  old,  yet 
still  handsome,  whose  intelligence,  suavity,  ease  of  manner 


OR  hope's  first  school.  117 

and  extreme  politeness  would  ever  give  liim  a  passport  in 
the  best  society,  independent  of  fortune.  He  seemed, 
though  a  great  ladies' man,  proof  against  female  attraction 
any  farther  than  mere  admiration  went.  Perhaps  his  heart 
was  buried  in  some  love  of  the  past.  Be  this  as  it  may.  no 
one  ever  thoiTght  of  his  falling  in  love.  It  was  too  absurd 
a  thing  to  be  dreamed  of.  A  young  teacher  named  Wil- 
liam Melvin,  a  slender,  keen-eyed,  reasonably  good  looking 
young  man,  compared  notes  with  Hope  on  teaching,  to  her 
intense  amusement.  He  was  intelligent  and  good  humored, 
and  she  imbibed  some  new  ideas  from  him. 

"Well,"  said  he,  after  she  had  related,  though  guard- 
edly, some  little  incidents  connected  withher  life  at  school, 
"I  can  t  blame  the  i')atrons  of  a  school  so  much,  because 
so  often  they  have  such  shabby  teachers.     I  have  some- 
times taught  a  public   school,    and  know  a  great  many 
public  school  teachers,  and  not  one  in  ten  is  qualified  for 
the  profession.     So  that  they  teach  the  requisite  number 
of  days  and  draw  their  money  out  of  the  treasury,  they 
are  content.     I  have  known  it  to  be  the  case  where  thirty- 
five,  or  even  as  high  as  forty  pupils  went  to  one  teacher,    in 
an  uncomfortable  school  house,  running  the  greatest  risk 
in  regard  to  their   health,   with  no   uniform   text   books, 
with  no  black  board,   with  no  advantages  whatever,   and 
the  parents  thought  it  all  right,  because  the  little  ones  were 
going  to  school  free.     Doubtless  many  a  little  grave,  now 
sodded  over,  might  have  never  been  but  for  cold  caught  at 
such  institutions  of  learning  as  these.     Sometimes  it  is  a 
matter  of  utter  impossibility  for  the  instructor  to  hear  more 
than  one  or  two  recitations  a  day  from  some  of  the  scholars, 
on  account  of  having  so  large  a  number  so  imperfectly 
classed.     I  can  assure  you,   Miss  Caldwell,   that  a  great 
reformation  is  needed  both  in  teachers  and  in  school  houses, 
more  particularly  in  the  country  ;  and  proud  as  I  am  of  my 
native  State,    which  in   i^oint  of    natural   advantages,    I 


118  THEN    AND    NOW  ; 

believe,  is  exceeded  by  no  other  in  the  Union,  never  will 
North  Carolina  attain  to  the  lofty  eminence  which  is 
rightly  hers,  until  her  people  awake  to  a  just  appreciation 
of  the  advantages  of  education.  Such,  at  least,  are  my 
sentiments." 

"  I  ^gree  with  you,"  replied  his  listener.  "I  w^as  utterly 
surprised  at  the  amount  of  ignorance  which  exists  among 
some  classes  of  our  society,  judging  from  some  of  my 
pupils." 

After  this,  conversation  turned  on'  other  topics,  and 
Hope  enjoyed  the  morning  very  much. 

One  of  her  new  acquaintances  was  a  young  gentleman 
called  Jonathan  Hull,  a  tall,  large  man  with  big  blue  eyes, 
fair  skin  and  black  hair,  who  was  of  an  exceedingly  lively 
turn,  and  seemed  rather  a  favorite  with  the  girls.  He,  too, 
had  a  chat  with  her,  and  the  hours  sped  by  so  swiftly 
among  all  her  acquaintances,  that  dinner  was  announced 
ere  she  had  a  thought  of  such  a  thing.  It  was  Mr.  Jonathan 
Hull  who  escorted  her  into  the  dining  room,  and  her  seat 
at  the  table  chanced  to  be  between  his  and  Mr.  Kodney 
Gilbert's.  Mr.  Gilbert  had  spoken  to  her  during  the  morn- 
ing, but  had  had  small  chance  to  converse  with  her  ;  and 
now  that  he  was  so  near  her,  he  was  so  engrossed  in  con- 
versation with  Miss  Mar}''  Allison  as  to  have  no  opportu- 
nity to  speak  to  Hope  ;  the  more  i)articularly  as  Mr.  Hull 
was  chatting  away  to  her  in  such  a  lively  manner  that  she 
was  compelled  to  give  him  her  whole  attention.  She  could 
scarcely  have  told  why  herself  ;  but  notwithstanding  the 
presence  of  such  a  merry,  laughing  crowd,  a  cold  chill  crept 
around  her  heart.  No  one  would  have  dreamed  of  such  a 
thing,  who  looked  at  her,  but  for  a  few  moments  she  was 
thoroughly  miserable.  After  dinner  she  started  out  on 
the  long  piazza  for  a  drink  of  water,  when,  to  her  great  sur- 
prise, she  espied  Mr.  Gilbert,  seated  on  one  of  the  long 
benches  there.     He  was  alone — looking  "gloomy  enough," 


OR  hope's  first  school.  119 

she  thought.  She  gave  a  slight  start  of  surprise  as  she 
saw  him,  but  went  on  to  the  water  shelf.  As  she  turned 
to  go  back  into  the  house,  she  spoke  to  him: 

"Sitting  out  here  alone,  Mr.  Gilbert,  when  such  a 
j)leasant  crowd  is  gathered  in  the  parlor  ?  I  am  surprised 
at  you  ! '' 

"I  am  always  alone,"  he  replied,  "too  miserable  even  to 
be  polite";  and  there  was  a  something  reckless,  despairing, 
in  his  tones  which  caused  Hojie's  tender  heart  to  pity  him, 
and  awakened  in  her  a  vain  yearning  to  soothe  his  sorrow, 
from  whatever  source  it  sprang.  She  came  a  little  nearer 
to  him  ere  she  spoke  : 

"  You  are  not  like  yourself,  Mr.  Gilbert ;  has  anything 
happened  to  cause  you  sadness  ? " 

"Nothing,  Miss  Hope,"  he  replied,  "or,  at  least,  noth- 
ing for  which  I  am  not  to  blame  myself.  Sit  down  here 
and  talk  with  me  a  little,  we  shall  not  be  missed  from  that 
giddy  crowd  in  the  parlor,  and  your  talk  may  do  me 
good." 

She  took  the  proffered  seat,  saying  as  she  did  so,  "  Isn't 
this  glorious  weather  for  December  ?  I  almost  look  to  see 
violets  springing  up  under  ray  feet." 

"  You  remind  me  of  Tennyson,  when  he  makes  his  hero 
say  of  Maud  : 

"  '  From  the  meadow  your  walks  have  left  so  sweet, 
That  whenever  a  March  wind  sighs ; 
He  sets  the  jewel  print  of  your  feet, 
In  violets  blue  as  your  eyes.' 

Only  your  eyes  are  dark  instead  of  blue." 
"  What  a  pity  I  am  not  a  blonde,"  she  exclaimed,  "so 
that  those  verses  might  apply  to  me.  Ah  !  fair  skinned, 
blue-eyed  girls  have  so  much  the  advantage.  Angels  and 
beauties  are  so  generally  represented  with  fa'r  skin  and 
golden  tresses." 


120  THEN    AND   NOW  ; 

"  I  have  a  picture,"  said  he,  "which  I  will  show  you 
sometime,  of  one  as  fair  as  poet  or  painter  ever  delin- 
eated," 

"  I  used  to  know  a  girl  of  that  description,"  remarked 
Hope,  a  slight  shade  crossing  her  face  as  she  spoke. 

"And  was  she  not  as  good  as  she  was  beautiful?" 
inquired  Rodney. 

"Yes,  if  you  think  Cleopatra  or  Delilah  good,  she 
was,"  replied  Hope,  with  more  bitterness  in  her  tones  than 
he  had  ever  noticed  before,  "for  I  think  she  was  their 
exact  counterpart." 

"I  am  sorry  it  is  so,"  he  remarked,  carelessly,  "fori 
had  hitherto  imagined  all  fair  skinned  ladies  almost  per- 
fection, and  thought  that  only  brunettes  like  myself  had  a 
spice  of  the  evil  one  in  them." 

She  eould  scarcely  tell  by  his  tones  whether  he  spoke 
ironically  or  not,  but  made  no  reply. 

"Do  you  know,"  said  she,  changing  the  subject  rather 
abruptly,  "  that  in  weather  like  this  I  sometimes  feel  per- 
fectly happy,  and  could  sit  and  dream  my  life  away,  if 
stern  duties  did  not  await  me." 

"  Dream  of  what,  or  wdiom  ?"  he  inquired. 

A  vivid  blush  mounted  to  her  cheek  ;  for  of  late  she  was 
conscious  that  there  was  one  whose  image  would  intrude 
ui)on  her  musings.  She  felt  relieved  when  he  continued, 
without  waiting  for  a  reply  or  seeming  to  notice  her  crim- 
son cheeks. 

"Dame  rumor  has  already  given  you  a  central  figure 
round  which  your  meditations  may  revolve,  in  the  person 
of  my  friend,  Mr.  Young." 

"  Mr.  Young  !"  she  exclaimed  in  unfeigned  surprise. 
"  Can  it  be  possible  that  x^eople  are  so  foolish  V 

"I  see  nothing  verj^  foolish  in  that,"  he  remarked 
drily. 


OR  hope's  first  school.  121 

"  Perhaps  you  and  others  may  not,  but  if  he  and  myself 
deem  it  an  absurd  idea,  I  don't  see  why  others  should  not 
look  on  it  in  the  same  light." 

"And  you  are  nothing  to  each  other,  then  V  he  inquired, 
his  eager  tones  betraying  the  deep  interest  he  felt  in  her 
answer. 

This,  and  the  expression  in  his  dark  eyes  caused  Hope's 
heart  to  beat  faster,  and  her  cheeks  to  burn.  There  was  a 
yearning  tenderness  in  his  look,  which  told  her  that 
Rodney  cherished  a  more  than  ordinary  attachment  for 
her ;  but  she  said,  stifling  down  the  heart  throbs  as  she 
spoke : 

"  We  are  nothing  to  each  other,  Mr.  Gilbert,  but  friends, 
and  hardly  very  good  friends  now." 

"I  am  sorry  that  you  are  not  good  friends,  but  am  glad 
that  you  are  not  betrothed,  for  I  love " 

He  stopped  suddenly,  for  at  this  crisis  Hattie  Stuart 
and  Mr.  Young  came  out  on  the  piazza,  and  directly  in 
front  of  the  bench  where  they  were  sitting. 

"Found  at  last!"  exclaimed  Hattie,  her  merry  laugh 
belying  the  bitterness  of  her  spirit  as  she  noticed  the  ill 
concealed  embarrassment  of  the  two,  "  we  could  not 
imagine  what  had  become  of  you." 

"Well,"  said  Rodney,  recovering  his  composure,  "I 
came  here  for  a  little  fresh  air  and  sunshine,  and  Miss 
Hope  for  some  water ;  and  I  determined  not  to  let  the 
opportunity  of  having  a  pleasant  tete-a-tete  pass  unim- 
proved. I  move  that  we  all  four  stay  out  here  awhile,  for 
I  dislike  the  house  in  this  weather." 

Somehow  there  was  now  a  change  of  programme.  Hattie 
playfully  took  a  seat  on  the  bench  beside  Mr.  Gilbert,  Mr. 
Young  beside  Hope,  and  soon  a  stranger  would  have  been 
utterly  deceived  in  regard  to  these  two  coux)les.  Whether 
from  a  wish  to  be  revenged  on  Mr.  Young,  for  his  higlih^ 
spoken  words,  by  coquetting  with  him,   or  from  a  desire, 


122  THEN   AND   NOW  ; 

to  make  Rodney  jealous,  or  from  a  real  change  in  lier 
sentiments  toward  Mr,  Young,  Hope  certainly  appeared 
well  pleased  in  liis  comx^any.  After  a  little  wliile  they  left 
the  piazza  and  went  out  into  the  flower  garden  together. 
Rodney's  stealthy  glance  in  that  direction  was  not  unno- 
ticed by  Hattie. 

"Miss  Hope  and  Mr.  Young  are  certainly  betrothed," 
she  remarked.  "Mr.  Gilbert,  you  should  not  have  let  him 
get  ahead  of  you  in  the  race.  It  will  be  hard  work  making 
up  for  lost  time." 

"Yes,"  he  replied,  with  a  forced  laugh,  "but  dilatory 
people  always  fall  behind  in  the  race." 

"  She  is  certainly  pretty,"  said  Hattie,  "but  i:)erhaps 
there  are  others  equally  so." 

"If  looks  were  all "  Rodney  began,  then   checking 

himself,  abruptly  changed  the  subject. 

Once  more  that  evening  he  had  a  chance  to  chat  with 
Hope  for  a  brief  while,  but  somehow  the  words  he  wished 
to  utter  were  crushed  back,  and  he  left  her  society  a 
wretched,  almost  desi:)airing  man.  The  winter  day,  so 
fraught  with  social  pleasure  to  the  rest  of  the  pleasant 
party  at  Mr.  Stuart's,  was  not  enjoyed  by  him.  As  for  our 
heroine,  for  the  first  time  in  her  life  she  acknowledged  to 
herself  that  Rodney  Gilbert  had  a  share  in  her  affections  ; 
that,  morose  and  gloomy  as  he  was  at  times,  there  was  still 
a  subtle  charm  about  him  which  caused  her  to  regard  him 
with  feelings  of  tenderness,  which,  under  all  the  circum- 
stances, she  was  ashamed  of.  "Why  did  she  care  for 
him?"  Again  and  again  did  that  question  occur  to  her, 
but  was  destined  to  be  unanswered.  Herbert  Ransom 
seemed  a  far  better  man,  Daniel  Young  a  much  more 
pleasant  one  ;  yet,  in  spite  of  all,  her  heart  went  straying 
after  Rodney  with  strange,  inexplicable  interest.  Perhaps 
it  was  partly  s^nnpathy  for  his  griefs,  from  whatever 
source  thej^  sprang.  And  yet  he  had  never  declared  himself; 


OR  hope's  first  school.  123 

had  never  betrayed  his  feelings  for  her,  save  in  liis  i)eculiar 
manner  at  times,  and  for  some  time  had  not  even  called  on 
her.  She  hated  herself  for  being  iinw^omanly  and  foolish, 
and  for  lacking  in  self  respect ;  but  all  this  did  not  drive 
the  unbidden  guest,  love,  from  her  heart. 

The  merry,  talking,  laughing  party  at  Mr.  Stuart's 
seemed  to  enjoy  themselves  immensely.  Late  in  the  even- 
ing, when  the  crowd  made  a  move  to  dex^art,  the  Misses 
Stuart  insisted  on  the  single  portion  of  it  remaining,  if  the 
married  ones  were  compelled  to  leave. 

"We  are  just  in  the  humor  for  enjoyment  now.  Stay 
to-night  and  we  will  dance."' 

This  proposition  was  hailed  with  pleasure  by  the  Juvenile 
portion  of  the  pleasant  party,  to  whom  the  winter  day  had 
flown  away  too  swiftly.  So  there  was  a  little  dance  that 
night,  which  gave  general  satisfaction  to  all.  Though 
Hope  declined  Joining  with  the  votaries  of  Terpsichore,  she 
enjoyed  the  festive  scene  very  much.  Miss  Juno  Myrtle 
and  Miss  Mary  Allison,  with  Miss  Estelle  Moran  and  the 
Misses  Stuart,  were  constantly  on  the  floor.  Emma  Cro- 
martie,  too,  "tripped  the  light  fantastic."  The  Messrs. 
Stuart,  Mr.  Daniel  Young,  Mr.  William  Melvin,  and  at 
rare  intervals,  Mr.  Gilbirt,  all  danced.  Hope  was  not 
lonely,  however.  Mr.  Stuart,  the  father  of  her  young 
friends,  sat  by  her,  and  conversed  a  part  of  the  time,  and 
also  Mr.  Egbert  Lyon,  who  proved  himself  very  entertain- 
ing. Mrs.  Stuart,  too,  chatted  with  her  for  some  time  ;  and 
though  Hope  did  not  enjoy  the  festal  scene  so  well  as  her 
young  companions,  yet  she  felt  well  pleased,  and  in  spite 
of  the  hidden  pain  at^her  heart,  contrived  to  be  merry  and 
sociable. 

During  the  Christmas  holidays  she  was  invited  to  Join 
several  "surprise  parties,"  and  at  every  one  she  met 
with  nearly  the  same  crowd  whom  she  had  seen  at  Mr. 
Stuart's,  augmented  by  a  dozen  or  so  other  young  people. 


124  THEN   AND   NOW  ; 

Mr.  Gilbert  was  at  all  of  these,  and  several  times  seemed 
on  the  point  of  declaring  himself  to  her,  but  something; 
changed  the  tide  of  conversation  every  time.  She  really 
felt  relieved  when  Christmas  was  over,  and  she  back  in  the 
school  again.  Work  was  a  help  to  her  excited  feelings — 
an  opiate  to  the  pain  at  her  heart.  She  wondered  at  Rod- 
ney's strange  conduct.  Something  whisj)ered  to  her  that 
he  loved  her,  and  yet,  what  reason  could  there  be  for  his 
peculiar  manner  toward  her ;  for  his  melancholy  and 
abstraction  ?  She  could  not  fathom  the  mystery,  but  it 
annoyed  her  greatly. 

One  lovely  Sabbath  evening,  about  six  weeks  after 
Christmas,  (Rodney  had  not  called  on  her  in  that  time), 
Herbert  Ransom  was  spending  the  evening  at  Mr.  Watkins', 
after  preaching  at  the  little  church  in  the  morning.  He 
and  Hope  were  alone  for  awhile,  and  in  their  conversation 
he  spoke  of  his  old  schoolmate. 

"I  cannot  imagine  what  has  come  over  Rodnev  of  late. 
He  has  been  for  years  somewhat  of  a  recluse,  but  for  the 
last  few  weeks,  just,  too,  as  I  was  lioping  for  better  things 
of  him,  he  is  even  more  gloomy  than  ever.  I  can  think  of 
but  one  clew  to  the  mystery.  Miss  Hope,  I  trust  you  will 
not  deem  me  impertinent,  but  if  you  have  aught  to  do  with 
his  melancholy,  in  all  seriousness,  I  beg  of  you  to  think  of 
him  kindly,  and  if  he  ever  offers  you  his  hand  consider 
well  before  you  reject  it.  Believe  me,  he  is  a  better  man 
than  j)eople  think ;  is  honorable  and  high  minded,  and 
did  he  not  have  too  exalted  ideas  of  perfection — which  not 
realizing  he  has  become  somewhat  soured — he  would  have 
no  superior  among  my  acquaintances." 

"  You  are  mistaken,  Mr.  Ransom.  Mr.  Gilbert's  melan- 
choly is  not  attributable  to  me.  He  has  never  addressed 
me.     Indeed,  he  has  not  been  here  for  weeks." 

Some  girls  Herbert  Ransom  might  have  doubted,  had 
they  made  this  statement,  under  the  circumstances  ;  but 


OR  hope's    FIK8T   SCHOOL.  125 

he  had  implicit  faith  in  Hope's  truth.  She  was  not  one  of 
those  girls  who  deem  that  falsehood  is  necessary  or  Justifi- 
able in  love  affairs  any  more  than  in  the  common,  every 
day  business  of  life. 

"If  so,  and  I  do  not  doubt  it.  Miss  Caldwell,  I  am  at  an 
utter  loss  to  divine  the  cause  of  his  sadness.  Here  is  a 
paper  containing  a  piece  of  poetry  which  he  wrote." 

He  handed  it  to  Hope,  who  with  strange  emotion  read 
the  following  lines : 

"  TOO  LATE.  " 

"  There  are  words  of  hope,  the  funeral  knell. 
The  seal  of  an  awful  fate; 
Heaven  shut  out  by  an  endless  hell, 
Are  in  these  words,  "  too  late.'' 
•    The  cloth  is  spread,  the  red  wine  poured. 
Music  breathes  its  sweetest  spell. 
The  guests  are  there  in  bright  array, 
As  gay  as  a  marriage  bell. 

And  by  and  by,  at  the  midnight  hour, 

A  knock  is  heard  at  the  gate  ; 
But  the  haggard  guest  only  hears  the  words: 

"  Stand  without,  you  are  "too  late." 
And  the  warmth,  and  light,  and  social  cheer, 

The  red  wine's  sparkling  foam. 
The  music  and  mirth  are  not  for  him  ; 

And  he  wearily  gets  him  home. 

I  have  seen  a  boy,  wayward  and  wild, 

Heeding  not  his  father's  word  ; 
But  going  on  in  his  own  sad  way, 

As  though  he  had  never  heard  ; 
Pausing  not  to  think,  in  his  mad  career 

Of  sin,  and  shame,  and  crime. 
Of  the  furrows  upon  his  parents'  brow. 

And  while  locks  before  their  time  ; 

Until  to  his  awakened  sense. 

The  awful  tidings  came: 
Your  father  will  hear  your  voice  no  more  ; 

No  more  will  speak  your  name. 


126  THEN    AND    NOW  ; 

And  when  too  late,  alas  !  to  fill 

His  sire's  heart  with  joy  ; 
I  have  seen  grief  come  like  a  mighty  flood, 

On  the  late  repentant  boj'. 

But  turning  too  late  the  spirit  to  cheer. 

Of  a  parent  good  and  kind. 
Through  all  his  life  will  rest  a  cloud, 

On  the  boy's  remorseful  mind. 
Through  the  long  weeks  of  the  Summer  time, 

The  earth  is  athirst  for  rain  ; 
The  heavens  are  brass,  the  ground  like  rock, 

The  fields  have  been  tilled  in  vain. 

The  streams  are  dry,  the  gasping  fish 

Are  left  on  the  laud  to  die  ; 
All  things  are  parched  by  the  blazing  sun. 

Shining  from  a  cloudless  sky. 
But  when  too  late  to  revive  the  fields. 

Or  fill  the  shrank  ears  with  grain, 
lu  copious  showers,  o'er  hill  and  dale. 

Descends  the  wished-for  rain. 

Poets  lauded  almost  to  the  very  heaven, 

While  cold  in  death  they  lie  ; 
Though  denied  in  life  a  loaf  of  bread. 

And  penuiless  left  to  die. 
Costly  tombs  o'er  those  whose  whole  life  long 

Was  one  of  toil  and  pain  ; 
All  these  but  prove,  that  coming  too  late. 

Good  gifts  may  come  in  vain. 

But  to  feel  that  the  love  which  would  have  made 

The  dim,  drear  earth  a  heaven. 
Is  freely  ours,  but  coming  too  late. 

In  mockery  seems  given. 
To  feel  that  honor  binds  us  fast, 

In  chains  as  hard  as  steel. 
And  links  our  fate  with  one  for  whom 

We  no  aflfection  feel. 

While  madly  strays  the  heart  away 

Toward  its  rightful  mate  ; 
This  is  indeed  to  feel  the  power 

Of  these  short  words,  "too  late." 


OR  hope's  first  school.  127 

'•  What  could  Rodney  mean  by  the  last  verse?"  She 
was  as  much  puzzled  in  regard  to  it,  as  Mr.  Ransom  had 
been  in  regard  to  his  conduct  of  late.  Of  course  her 
thoughts  often  wandered,  during  the  ensuing  week,  to  the 
one  whom  she  could  not  help  considering  her  evil  genius. 
On  Sunday  he  came  to  Mr.  Watkins'.  Late  in  the  evening 
he  with  the  young  teacher  and  the  two  boys,  James  and 
Willie,  walked  to  a  stream  about  half  a  mile  from  the 
house,  which  was  noted  for  its  beauty.  The  evening  was 
glorious.  There  was  a  misty  blueness  in  the  atmosi)here, 
through  which  the  sun  fell  in  golden  rays.  The  woods 
with  their  numerous  pines,  bays  and  evergreen  thickets, 
did  not  look  desolate  ;  and  the  water  with  the  reflected 
form  of  shrub  and  tree  in  its  clear  depths,  bore  an  aspect 
of  repose  entirely  in  keeping  with  the  sacredness  of  the 
Sabbath  evening.  Rodney  was  talkative  and  pleasant, 
but  Hope  noticed  a  sad  look  about  his  eye — an  expression 
as  of  one  who  has  fought  and  conquered,  but  whose 
victory  has  been  dearly  gained.  Never  had  she  so  longed 
to  know  the  secret  ot  his  life— the  hidden  canker  which 
was  eating  his  heart  away  ;  never  had  she  felt  such  a 
yearning  wish  to  console  him.  They  walked  on,  talking 
quietly  until  they  reached  a  rustic  bridge  across  the  little 
stream  ;  there  they  paused.  James  and  Willie  were  at  a 
considerable  distance  from  them,  gathering  acorn  caps  and 
other  woodland  treasures.  Hope  looked  at  the  water 
silently,  ever  and  anon  casting  a  pebble  or  stick  in  it,  and 
watching  it  as  it  floated  off. 

*'  You  are  nothing  but  a  child  after  all,  Miss  Hope.  How 
came  you  to  have  such  a  strange  mixture  of  qualities  in 
your  disposition?"  remarked  Rodney,  with  a  tender 
smile;  "I  never  saw  anyone  like  you.  I  do  not  know 
what  to  think  of  you." 

"Then  do  not  think  at  all,"  said  she,  lightl3^ 


128  THEN    AND   NOW  ; 

"That  is  impossible,"  he  rei^lied  ;  then  with  a  sudden 
burst  of  emotion,  "  Oh,  Hope  !  Hope  !  Would  to  heaven 
I  had  never  seen  you  !  " 

She  was  startled  at  this  unexpected  avowal.  Her  face 
flushed,  then  turned  pale,  but  recovering  her  self-possession 
she  said  : 

"Mr.  Gilbert,  why  should  you  speak  in  this  manner? 
What  have  I  done  that  you  should  make  such  a  wish  ?" 

"  What  have  you  done  ?  Nothing,  except  to  open  my 
eyes  to  the  fact  that  a  man  may  lose  a  lifetime  happiness 
just  by  being  a  little  too  hasty." 

"You  speak  in  riddles,  Mr.  Gilbert,"  with  a  touch  of 
hauteur  in  her  tones,  "  I  do  not  at  all  understand  you." 

"  I  will  explain  myself  more  fully  then,"  he  replied.  "I 
do  not  know.  Miss  Hope,  whether  you  have  ever  deemed 
that  I  cherished  aught  beside  friendly  feelings  for  you  ; 
]3robably  never  gave  the  matter  a  thought ;  still  I  think 
some  explanations  are  due  y«)u." 

"Due  me?"  she  inquired  wonderingly  ;  then  changing 
her  tone  she  continued,  I  wish  you  would  give  me  your 
confidence  ;  would  tell  me  what  hidden  grief  is  preying 
upon  you.  I  am  your  friend  and  can  sympathize  with 
your  sorrows,  even  if  out  of  my  power  to  console  you." 

"  At  least  you  can  pray  for  me,"  he  rejoined.  "I  have 
confidence  in  your  prayers,  and  Herbert  Ransom's,  and  in 
those  of  no  one  else." 

"That  I  do  already,"  was  her  reply,  hastily  adding  the 
words,  "as  I  do  for  all  of  my  friends." 

"For  all  of  your  friends!  Am  I  then  just  classed 
among  your  list  of  friends  1 " 

"Certainly,  you  would  not  have  me  consider  you  an 
enemy,  would  you?" 

"No,  but  I  do  not  cherish  friendly  feelings  for  you.  I 
love  you  madly,  yet  I  hardly  have  the  right  to  tell  you  so, 


OR  hope's  first  school.  129 

for  I  was  engaged  to  be  married  when  I  first  saw  you,  and 
am  now." 

At  this  most  nnlooked-for  declaration,  Hope  turned 
deadly  pale  ;  but  she  betrayed  her  feelings  in  no  other 
way.     Rodney  continued : 

"This,  Miss  Hope,  is  the  canker  worm  that  is  eating  up 
my  very  heart.  You  cannot  realize  what  a  conflict  I  have 
undergone  since  I  last  saw  you.  To  love  one  woman,  as 
wildly  and  devotedly  as  I  do  you,  and  yet  be  bound  in 
honor  to  another,  whose  happiness  might  be  completely 
sacrificed  by  my  falsity ;  this  is  my  fate.  Believe  me, 
nothing  would  have  caused  me  to  reveal  this  but  the 
thought  that  you  might  think  strangely  of  me ;  might 
deem  me  ungentlemanly  ;  for  your  woman' s  intuition  must 
have  told  you  that  several  times  I  was  on  the  eve  of  declar- 
ing my  love  for  you,  but  that  something  ever  hindered  me 
from  doing  so." 

"Why  then,  Mr.  Gilbert,"  she  inquired,  her  voice  trem- 
bling a  little  in  spite  of  her  efforts  to  steady  it,  "did  you 
ever  seek  my  society  ?" 

"Because,  I  did  not  realize  my  danger.  At  first  sight 
you  know  I  deemed  you  neither  pretty  or  interesting  ;  and 
though  I  became  more  and  more  interested  in  you  at  every 
subsequent  meeting,  I  never  dreamed  of  any  serious  im- 
pression being  made  upon  my  heart,  until  that  snowy 
evening  when  I  came  to  see  you.  I  paid  you  attention 
merely  because  you  were  a  stranger  in  the  neighborhood, 
and  I  thought  it  due  you.  But  after  that  night  I  opened 
my  eyes  to  the  truth.  I  saw  myself  drifting  away  from 
truth,  from  honor,  and  from  my  betrothed ;  and  yet,  so 
strong  was  the  love  I  bore  you,  that  when  thrown  in  your 
society,  several  times  I  was  on  the  point  of  flinging  every 
other  scruple  to  the  winds,  and  of  asking  you  to  become 
my  wife,   without  informing  you   of  my  engagement   to 


130  THEN   AND    NOW 


5 


another  woman.  But,  bad  as  I  am,  I  have  a  horror  of 
falsehood,  and  I  wish  you  to  know  all  the  truth." 

"  Mr.  Gilbert,  of  what  use  is  this  conversation  ;  what  do 
you  purpose  by  telling  me  that  you  love  me,  but  are 
betrothed  to  some  one  else  1  I  think  you  are  wronging 
yourself  and  wronging  your  betrothed,  and  I  see  nothing 
to  be  gained  by  the  avowal." 

"  Nothing,  Hope,  except  that  I  do  not  wish  you  to  look 
upon  me  as  a  deliberate  villain.  I  wish  you  to  think  at 
least  kindly  of  me  in  the  long  years  of  the  future." 

"  That  I  might  do  without  your  telling  me  so  much." 

"Then  you  do  not  care  for  me;  your  heart  is  utterly 
untouched?  I  ought  to  rejoice  at  the  thought,  and  yet  so 
iiitensely  selfish  is  my  love  that  I  should  rather  you  would 
be  unhappy  than  not  to  care  for  me." 

"  This  is  most  unkind  !  ungenerous  !  "  exclaimed  Hope, 
with  crimson  cheeks  and  trembling  voice;  "I  did  not 
deem  you,  Mr.  Gilbert,  possessed  of  such  contemptible 
Vanity." 

"Vanity!  Oh!  my  love,  could  you  look  into  my  heart 
you  would  never  accuse  me  so  unjustly  !  Believe  me,  I 
am  honorable.  I  will  be  all  that  my  betrothed  can  exjDect 
if  we  marry,  but  my  heart  does  not  thrill  to  the  sound  of 
her  voice  as  it  does  to  yours  ;  her  little  hand  is  so  lovely 
that  it  hardly  seems  human  ;  yet  it  has  not  the  power  to 
fill  me  with  joy  by  a  chance  touch  as  does  yours,  and  I 
can  spend  whole  days  contentedly  away  from  her,  while  it 
costs  Ine  the  bitterest  self-denial  to  absent  myself  from 
you.  Oh!  cruel  fate  that  I  met  with  you  'too  late,'  too 
late,  at  least,  to  strive  to  gain  your  heart ! " 

"  Moved,  in  spite  of  herself,  to  intense  pity  for  the  strong 
man,  whose  noule  frame  was  shaken  by  deep  emotion,  she 
sjjoke,  but  her  voice  and  look  were  more  that  of  some  holy 
nun  than  of  a  loving,  sorrowing  woman.  Raising  her  hand 
toward  the  deep  blue  sky,  she  repeated,  in  solemn  tones. 


OR  hope's  first  school.  131 

the  words  of  the  inspired  Apostle:  '•  Set  your  affections 
on  things  above,  not  on  things  on  the  earth  ;"  for  "here 
we  have  no  continuing  city,  but  we  seek  one  to  come." 
"Who  knows  but  what  seems  so  dark  to  you  now  may 
seem  very  bright  hereafter ;  who  knows  but  what  if  you 
had  been  free  you  might  have  thought  infinitely  more  of 
me  than  of  the  Creator?" 

"  True,"  he  replied,  "and  yet  it  seems  to  me  that  if  you 
were  mine  I  should  be  a  thousand  times  more  religious -a 
thousand  times  more  grateful  to  God  for  his  mercies." 

She  did  not  tell  him  so,  but  she  felt  that  all  througli 
the  coming  years  it  would  be  a  consolation  for  her  to  know 
that  Rodney  had  loved  her,  and  would  have  made  her  his 
wife  had  not  honor  forbade.  But  a  strange  fate  had  drifted 
them  utterly  apart ;  she  was  powerless  to  console  him,  for 
she  had  as  high  a  sense  of  honor  as  he,  and  would  wrong 
no  woman  living  if  she  knew  it.  There  was  but  one  course 
to  take.  This  must  be  their  last  meeting.  It  was  a  bitter 
hour  to  both.  The  evening  sun  was  setting  gloriously  ; 
the  scene  had  lost  none  of  its  i^eacef ulness  ;  yet  a  storm  of 
grief  was  raging  in  the  hearts  of  these  two.  Rodney,  in 
spite  of  Hope's  attempt  to  be  cold  and  dignified,  had 
guessed  but  too  truly  that  his  love  was  returned  in  all  its 
full  intensity,  and  it  seemed  worse  than  death  that  just  as 
they  knew  of  their  mutual  affection  they  would  have  to 
separate.  Oh !  that  God  willed  that  they  might  die 
together  !  I  would  rather  die  with  Rodney  than  live  with- 
out him,  was  Hope's  unspoken  thought,  as  it  was  his  in 
regard  to  her.  But  her  decision  was  made.  She  would  do 
nothing  to  tempt  him  from  truth  and  honor.  She  would 
not  swerve  from  the  right.  Love  might  never  more  brighten 
her  path,  the  "rough  and  flinty  way"  must  be  for  her, 
"  the  primrose  path  "  for  others,  but  her  resolve  was  the 
same.  Woman-like,  she  had  a  curiosity  to  see  the  portrait 
of  her  riva,l  and  expressed  her  wish  to  Rodney.     It  was  a 


132  THEN    AND   NOW  ; 

small  picture,  elegantly  framed,  wLicli  he  took  from  his 
pocket,  and  the  face  it  j)ortrayed  was  as  lovely  as  an  angel's 
dream  ;  but  who  can  describe  her  amazement,  her  horror, 
when  in  the  portrait  she  beheld  the  features  of  her  false 
friend — the  one  who  had  robbed  her  young  life  of  its 
brightness — Amelia  Montcalm  !  Yes,  there  was  Amelia's 
portrait ;  her  fair,  exquisite  face  and  her  halo  of  golden 
hair  ;  how  strange  it  seemed  that  Rodney  did  not  love  her 
perfectly,  when  her  charms  had  wiled  away  Robert  St. 
George's  heart  from  his  betrothed!  Hope's  face  turned 
deadly  pale  as  she  glanced  at  it,  so  pale,  indeed,  that  Mr. 
Gilbert  feared  she  would  faint,  but  she  was  too  strong 
for  that. 

"For  pity's  sake,  Hope,"  he  exclaimed,  "what  is  the 
matter  ;  you  are  not  like  yourself  ?" 

"  No,  I  am  not  myself  ;  but  it  is  useless  to  speak  of  it ; 
let  us  return  home." 

"  I  may  not  see  you  again  for  a  long  time,  possibly 
never,  and  yet  you  hasten  the  moment  of  parting  !  Can 
you  not  give  me  the  few  brief  moments  that  we  might  be 
together?  I  expect  to  carry  the  memory  of  this  hour  all 
through  my  future  life,  and  sometimes  in  the  twilight, 
when  the  quiet  and  stillness  woos  to  sweet  musings,  I  will 
think  of  every  word  and  look  of  yours,  and  more  particu- 
larly of  everything  connected  with  this,  the  saddest  of  all 
partings.  Oh  !  my  precious  love  !  I  am  selfish  and  mean, 
even  in  my  devotion  to  you  !  Would  to  Heaven  I  had 
acted  more  wisely  !" 

"You  have  done  no  one  any  intentional  wrong,  Mr. 
Gilbert,  and  unintentional  wrongs  can  be  forgiven  ;  but  it 
will  be  dishonorable  in  you  now  not  to  banish  all  thought 
of  every  one  but  the  girl  who  has  plighted  her  troth  to  you. 
You  must  live  for  her." 

"No!"    was  his  reply;    "ambition   shall  be  my  idol 

now.  My  heart  is  like  a  heap  of  dust.  I  deemed  myself 
miserable  before,  but  I  am  trebly  wretched  now  !" 


OR  hope's  first  school.  133 

She  felt  intuitively  that  he  would  be  still  more  unhappy 
when  united  to  a  woman  whom  he  did  not  j)erfectly  love. 
But  she  strove  to  repress  all  such  thoughts,  and  absolutely 
longed  for  the  moment  of  his  departure  to  come.  It  was 
agony  to  be  with  him,  and  yet  feel  that  an  impassable 
barrier  was  between  them.  Better  that  a  thousand  miles 
intervened.  The  reader  may  well  believe  that  it  was  no 
small  temptation  to  Hope  to  use  every  art  of  which  she 
was  mistress  to  induce  Rodney  to  break  his  troth  with 
Amelia.  Every  feeling  of  love  and  of  revenge  would  have 
been  fully  gratified  by  his  desertion  of  his  betrothed  for  her 
sake.  But  so  noble  and  conscientious  was  she  that  she 
would  not  contemplate  such  an  act  for  one  moment.  She 
dashed  the  cup  of  possible  joy  and  triumph  resolutely 
from  her  lips,  and  in  its  stead  drained  one  of  wormwood, 
but  she  felt  that  she  was  doing  right,  and  this  thought 
supported  her.  Rodney  seemed  to  share  in  her  feelings  in 
regard  to  their  being  separate,  for  upon  his  return  to  Mr. 
Watkins'  he  ordered  his  horse,  and  notwithstanding  the 
entreaties  of  the  family  for  him  to  spend  the  night  with 
them,  rode  off  into  the  gathering  darkness.  Hope  was 
glad  of  the  shelter  of  the  night,  screening  her  even  from 
the  eyes  of  friends,  for  she  longed  to  give  vent  to  feelings 
but  too  hardly  repressed,  and  her  pillow  that  night  was 
moistened  by  a  torrent  of  bitter  tears. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 


The  neighborhood  in  which  Hope  taught  was  emphati- 
cally a  farming  one.  A  grove  of  noble  trees  surrounded 
the  school-house,  but  the  highway  was  immediately  in 
front  of,  and  at  no  great  distance  from  it,  and  back  of  it, 
and  on  each  side,  lay  wide  fields  which  every  year  bore 


134  THEN   AND   NOW  ; 

abundant  crops  of  corn  and  some  cotton.  Now,  in  the 
early  spiring  days,  when  not  busy  with  the  children,  she 
would  watch  the  ploughmen,  as  all  day  long  they  followed 
their  patient  team,  and  wonder  to  herself  if  they  did  not 
grow  very  weary  of  their  task.  Then,  when  they  planted 
the  grain,  it  seemed  to  her  that  it  must  require  faith  to 
believe  that  the  buried  seed  would  ever  come  to  earth 
again,  even  though  the  same  miracle  was  witnessed  every 
year.  "It  is  sown  in  corruption,  it  is  raised  in  incorrup- 
tion.""  These  words  of  the  inspired  Apostle  haunted  her, 
and  turning  to  her  own  work  she  would  marvel  if  the  seed 
sown  by  her  with  such  j)atient  toil,  would  ever  spring  into 
immortal  life.  For  Hope  regarded  the  mere  imparting  of 
knowledge  to  x^ux^ils  as  but  a  small  part  of  a  teacher's 
duty.  The  heart — the  spiritual  nature— she  regarded  as  of 
even  more  importance  than  the  intellect,  and  small  indeed 
would  have  been  her  satisfaction  to  know  that  she  was 
training  her  scholars  but  to  make  them  more  accomplished 
in  wickedness,  but  to  render  them  more  capable  of  carrying 
out  plans  to  mislead  or  injure  others.  Shortly  after  her 
last  interview  with  Rodney,  a  description  of  which  we 
have  already  given,  she  took  up  the  idea  of  having  a  kind 
of  Commencement — a  "  school  breaking,"  as  it  is  called  in 
the  countrJ^  She  had  a  programme  of  it  already  laid  out 
in  her  own  mind,  and  intended  to  prepare  the  children  for 
it  pretty  soon.  One  evening,  when  she  was  busy  hearing 
a  recitation,  she  saw  a  train  of  people  passing  along  the 
road  before  the  school-house.  It  was  a  funeral  procession. 
There  was  a  rough  cart,  with  a  small  coffin  in  it,  followed 
by  several  buggies,  some  of  them  rather  the  worse  for 
wear.  The  foremost  ones  contained  the  mourners.  The 
teacher  asked  no  questions,  but  her  curiosity  was  strongly 
excited  in  regard  to  it.  She  felt  anxious  to  know  what 
family  had  been  recently  deprived  of  one  of  its  members. 
In  about  an  hour  the  crowd  returned,  and  to  her  surprise 


OR  hope's  first  school.  135 

three  of  the  buggies  stopped  before  the  school-house.  The 
children  were  all  agog  with  excitement  at  the  unwonted 
spectacle.     Helen  Hartwell  held  up  her  hand. 

"  What  is  it,  Helen  ? "  inquired  the  teacher. 

"  Yonders  Ma  and  a  whole  crowd  of  folks  comin'  to  the 
school-house.     They've  all  got  out  of  the  buggies," 

Hope  recognized  the  "Widder  Simmons,"  and  invited 
her  and  the  rest  of  the  party  in  and  gave  them  seats. 
They  each  and  all,  with  the  exception  of  the  "Widder," 
introduced  themselves  to  her  upon  their  entrance.  That 
old  lady  grasj^ed  her  hand  warmly  as  she  bade  her  good 
evening.  The  other  members  of  the  party  were  resj)ec- 
tively  Mr.  Liggins,  Aunt  Rachel  Tyler,  Mr.  Fogyman,  Mrs. 
Hartwell  and  Mr.  Twining. 

Hope  went  on  with  the  recitation,  but  it  must  be  con- 
fessed with  a  shade  of  embarrassment  on  her  countenance. 
Not  being  accustomed  to  frequent  visitors,  she  felt  a  little 
discomposed  at  the  unexpected  arrival  of  these.  But  she 
struggled  against  this  feeling.  Her  manner  of  teaching- 
surprised  and  interested  them.  Though  falling  far  short 
of  the  mode  of  instruction  now-a-days,  it  was  superior  to 
that  of  the  average  country  teacher  a  few  years  back. 
When  the  recitations  were  over  she  drew  a  house  on  the 
blackboard.  Then  she  required  her  pupils  to  tell  her  the 
name  of  each  separate  part  of  a  house  and  the  use  of  eacli 
part,  as  also  the  materials  of  which  it  is  composed.  She 
then  said : 

"To-morrow  we  will  continue  this  lesson.  We  will  find 
out  all  about  it,  from  the  foundation-stone  until  it  stands 
up  among  the  trees,  with  its  chimneys,  windows  and  doors. 
In  this  simple  manner  she  interested  the  children.  They 
were  first  attracted  by  her  drawings,  then  her  questions 
roused  their  curiosity,  and  besides  she  had  a  talent  of 
throwing  a  human  interest  around  everything.  Her  object 
lessons  were  indelibly  stamped  upon  the  memories  of  her 
pupils. 


136  THEN    AND    NOW  ; 

The  company  remained  until  after  school  was  dismissed. 
When  the  children  had  all  filed  out,  and  were  making  the 
woods  ring  with  their  shouts  of  gladness,  they  lingered 
still,  seemingly  loth  to  part  with  Hope,  who,  for  her  own 
part,  was  anxious  to  return  home.  Mr.  Liggins,  a  coarse, 
red-faced,  red-haired  man,  whose  nose  betokened  a  too  free 
use  of  the  bottle,  and  whose  whole  face  was  the  living 
impersonation  of  sensuality,  unmodified  by  refined  train- 
ing, seemed  to  feel  that  he  was  called  upon  to  say  some- 
thing to  the  teacher : 

"I  likes  your  teachin'.  Miss  Hope,  in  most  respects.  I 
likes  it  very  well  but  for  one  thing.  You  ain't  tight 
enough.  Boys  like  mine,"  waving  his  hand  in  a  sensa- 
tional manner  towards  the  unfortunate  Sam  and  Joe,  "boys 
like  mine  need  the  hickory  two  or  three  times  a  week  to 
season  them.  They  can't  get  along  without  it.  Every  time 
mine  comes  home  sez  I  to  them,  '  who  got  a  whippin'  to- 
day?' and  the  answer  always  comes,  'Nobody.'  I 
don't  see  how  you  can  get  along  without  it." 

"Yes,"  said  Mr.  Fogyman,  "in  my  time  it  was  no 
common  thing  for  the  teacher  to  whip  eight  or  ten  at  a 
time,  and  sometimes  one  boy  got  five  or  six  whippin' s 
a  day." 

Though  feeling  it  almost  beneath  her  dignity  to  say  any- 
thing at  all  to  these  gentlemen,  yet,  fearing  that  her  silence 
might  be  construed  into  insult,  Hope  said  "that  she  did 
not  disapprove  of  corporal  punishment  when  really  neces- 
sary, but  so  far  had  managed  to  get  on  very  well  without 
it."  Her  dignity,  as  well  as  the  use  of  several  words 
whose  meaning  they  could  not  fathom,  awed  both  the 
fault-finders  into  silence.     Aunt  Rachel  Tyler  next  spoke  : 

"  I  wish.  Miss  Hope,  you  would  make  the  children  bring 
their  copies  home  every  Friday,  They  get  stolen  some- 
times here  when  left  Saturday  and  Sunday.  When  I  went 
to  school  paper  was  paper ;  children  waskeerful  with  every- 


OE  hope's  first  school.  137 

thing,  but  now-a-days  things  is  wasted.  I  tells  Euphemia, 
Octavia  and  Adolphus  that  when  they  comes  to  work  as 
hard  as  I  do  for  everything  they  will  be  more  particular. 
Pencils,  too  !  I  can't  keep  them  in  pencils  to  save  my  life. 
I  do  not  mean  to  complain,  but  you  know  it  is  aggravatin'." 

Miss  Rachel  Tyler  was  a  maiden  aunt  of  the  three  Tyler 
children,  and  was  a  really  hard-working,  persevering, 
worthy  woman,  who  had  worked  for  and  taken  care  of  the 
the  three  as  though  they  were  her  own.  She  was  a  large, 
but  bony  woman,  every  line  of  whose  face  and  figure 
betokened  energy,  decision,  as  also  hard  usage.  Way 
back  in  the  sunny  days  of  her  girlhood  Miss  Rachel  had 
been  a  lover,  but  the  years  had  come  and  the  years  had 
gone,  and  still  she  led  a  single  life,  though  it  must  be  con- 
fessed a  very  useful  one.  Heaven,  only  knows  what 
Euphemia,  Adolphus  and  Octavia  would  have  done  with- 
out her.  It  ought  to  be  forgiven  her  if  she  imagined  every- 
thing in  the  past  better  than  the  present,  for  was  not  the 
past  inseparably  connected  with  her  girlhood  and  with  the 
one  love  of  her  life  ?  Had  Hope  known  this  she  would 
have  had  more  charity  for  what  she  deemed  fault-finding. 
It  is  well  for  teachers  to  be  acquainted  with  patrons,  as 
well  as  scholars,  as  they  cannot  always  make  due  allowance 
without.  As  it  was,  Hope  passed  the  matter  over  the  best 
she  could,  telling  Miss  Rachel  "that  she  used  every  means 
in  her  power  to  make  the  children  careful,  for  she  was  as 
anxious  as  anyone  for  them  all  to  keep  good  order,  and 
not  to  waste." 

Mrs.  Hart  well,  a  stout,  florid  lady  of  some  forty  years, 
next  had  her  say  : 

"Helen  tells  me,  Miss  Caldwell,  that  you  keep  her  in 
sometimes  of  evenings.  Please  let  her  come  home  of 
evenings.     I  wants  her  to  milk  the  cows." 

What  could  Hope  answer  to  this  ?  Of  what  avail  were 
her  efiiorts  to  advance  the  children  when  she  met  with  such 
constant  interference  ? 


138  THEN   AND   NOW 


? 


Old  Mrs.  Simmons  had  nothing  to  say  except  in  praise 
of  the  teacher : 

"George  and  Asa  is  gettin'  along  so  well  I  only  wish 
they  could  go  to  school  to  j'ou  till  tliey's  grown.  The 
other  day  Tom  he  had  a  nice  j^am  potato — a  tremendous 
one — and  was  crammin'  it  away  in  his  trunk,  and  sez  I, 
'  Tom,  what  is  that  for  I '  Sez  he,  '  V  m  a  savin'  of  it  for  my 
dear  teacher.'  " 

"Yes,"  laughed  Hope,  "and  I  certainly  enjoyed  it.  I 
am  glad  to  have  my  scholars  love  me." 

"Johnnie  never  gets  tired  of  talkin'  about  you.  Miss 
Hope,"  said  Mr.  Twining,  "and  he's  larnin'  right  along, 
too." 

Mr.  Twining  was  not  destitute  of  good  feeling,  though 
poor  and  ignorant,  and  the  words  of  praise  fell  sweetly  on 
the  ears  of  the  young  teacher,  after  being  found  fault  of. 
She  felt  that  after  all  teaching  was  not  an  utterly  thankless 
task.  And  it  pleased  her  even  more  to  be  loved  by  the 
poorest  and  most  ignorant  children  than  by  the  highest.  It 
proved  conclusively  that  at  least  she  was  not  partial  to 
the  latter,  as  so  many  teachers  are  accused  of  being, 

"  You  must  excuse  us  for  comin'  all  in  a  crowd  like," 
Baid  Aunt  Rachel  Tyler,  as  they  were  about  to  leave  the 
school-house;  "only  you  see  we  was  comin'  from  the 
burial,  and  thought  we  would  stop  a  little  while,  and  I 
wanted  to  see  you  'bout  the  children's  copy-books  and 
pencils." 

"  I  am  glad  you  came,  and  hope  you  will  all  call  again," 
said  the  teacher;  "but  whose  funeral  is  it  that  you  are 
attending?" 

"It's  a  little  child  that  got  burnt  to  death;  poor  Mrs. 
Beckwith's  youngest  child.  Its  mother  was  washin'  and 
it  was  standin'  around  the  pot.  Its  clothes  got  afire  and 
before  they  could  put  it  out  it  got  so  badly  burnt  that  it 
died." 


OR  hope's  first  school.  139 

"Poor  little  creature!"  exclaimed  Hope,  "and  i^oor 
mother  !  it  is  dreadful !" 

"Yes,"  responded  Aunt  Rachel,  "  but  it  is  better  off." 

"  It  is  better  off  !"  Simple  words,  uttered  by  untutored 
lips,  but  with  a  world  of  meaning  in  them  and  brimming 
full  of  immortal  hope.  Somehow  our  heroine  was  suddenly 
attracted  by  this  strange  old  maid. 

"Til  venture  to  say  that  she  has  a  good  heart,"  was 
Hope's  thought,  "and  if  in  trouble  of  such  a  nature  as  I 
could  impart  to  anyone,  I  would  go  to  her." 

"  You  must  come  to  see  us,  Miss  Hope ;  we  will  be 
glad  to  see  you,"  was  the  invitation  she  received  on  all 
sides. 

"I  wonder  why  it  is  that  I  have  so  many  friends," 
thought  Hope,  on  her  homeward  route.  "They  are  good 
to  have,  yet,  lacking  the  love  I  crave,  the  world  seems  a 
desert  to  me.  Oh,  Rodney  !  had  you  not  crossed  my  path 
I  would  now  be  happy  !  But  I  will  not  mope  nor  give  way 
to  gloom  and  despondency."  And  she  strove  not  to.  She 
dressed  with  as  much  care,  worked  as  faithfully  and  tried 
to  be  as  cheerful  as  though  the  star  ot  her  life  had  not 
faded  from  her  sky.  She  was  strong  and  brave,  yet  at 
times  her  wish  to  see  Rodney  rendered  life  almost  insup- 
portable. But  as  far  as  possible  she  crushed  down  all  such 
thoughts  and  feelings  and  filled  up  every  hour  with  work. 
"  My  life  may  be  saddened,  but  it  shall  not  be  wrecked  by 
disappointed  love,"  was  her  reflection.  C-fod  has  been  too 
good  to  me  for  me  to  fling  away  all  of  His  blessings  merely 
because  He  has  not  given  me  all  I  wish  for ;"  and  we  trust 
that  all  of  our  readers,  young  or  old,  sentimental  or  prac- 
tical, will  be  prepared  to  say  amen  to  this  pious  resolve, 
as  also  to  do  likewise,  if  placed  under  similar  circumstances. 


140  THEN    AND   NOW  ; 


CHAPTER  XIV. 


Mrs.  Watkins,  though  by  no  means  an  inquisitive  or 
prying  lady,  was  not  entirely  destitute  of  curiosity,  and  it 
may  well  be  supposed  that  it  was  strongly  excited  by  the 
conduct  of  Rodney  and  Hope.  His  evident  melancholy 
and  sudden  departure  from  her  house  on  that  eventful 
Sabbath  evening,  his  prolonged  absence  since,  and  the 
abstraction  of  her  manner  at  times,  all  convinced  the  lady 
that  there  was  some  mystery  about  the  matter,  but  what  it 
was  she  could  not  tell.  She  was  no  stranger  to  the  lore  of 
affection,  and  had  watched  these  two  closely  enough  to 
believe  that  they  were  lovers,  and  their  strange  parting 
puzzled  her.  Could  it  be  i^ossible  that  Hope  had  discarded 
him  ?  She  did  not  believe  it,  neither  did  she  see  any  room 
for  a  lover's  quarrel ;  but  perhaps,  after  all,  the  girl  loved 
some  one  else  better  ;  it  might  be  Herbert  Ransom,  the  two 
were  together  so  much  and  seemed  so  well  suited  in  every 
respect.  Thus  did  the  good  little  lady  debate  to  herself, 
but  came  to  no  definite  conclusion.  It  must  be  borne  in 
mind  by  the  reader  that  Mr.  Gilbert's  engagement  had,  at 
Amelia's  request,  been  kept  a  profound  secret ;  though  it 
must  be  confessed  not  at  all  contrary  to  Rodney's  desire- 
She  was  unwilling  as  yet  to  resign  her  belledom,  though 
she  could  scarcely  hope  to  captivate  a  more  eligible  suitor 
than  her  betrothed,  and  he  was  too  thoroughly  indifferent 
about  the  matter  to  care.  Not  even  to  Hope  had  he  told 
every  particular  in  regard  to  his  engagement  to  Amelia. 
Had  he  betrayed  the  whole  truth  it  would  have  revealed  a 
deliberate  scheme  to  inveigle  him  into  matrimony.  Amelia, 
while  in  the  little  town  near  him  the  summer  before,  had 
heard  a  glowing  description  of  his  wealth,  and  on  a  chance 


OR  hope's  fikst  school.  141 

visit  to  his  mother's  had  satisfied  herself  that  the  report 
was  true.  She  was^then  betrothed  to  another  gentleman 
(she  had  discarded  Robert  St.  Gfeorge  and  a  dozen  others 
long  ago),  but  this  was  a  small  obstacle  in  her  path.  With 
a  cunning  of  which  she  was  the  perfect  mistress,  she 
managed  to  completely^win  the  heart  of  Rodney's  mother 
before  attempting'his  capture. 

"  You  will  never  find  so  good  a  girl,  my  son,"  said  Mrs. 
Gilbert  to  him ;  "no  one  is  so  sweet  and  kind  to  me  ;  then 
she  is  rich,  stylish  and  as  beautiful  as  an  angel." 

There  was  no  denying  her  beauty.  In  all  his^travels  he 
had  never  beheld  a  fairer  being,  and  shesang  as  sweetly  as 
a  nightingale.  Then,  too,  she  was  witty,  i3erfectly  self- 
possessed  in  manner,  and  could  be  as  fascinating  as  a  siren 
when  she  willed  it.  Rodney's  mother  was  anxious  for  him 
to  marry,  and  more  especially  if  he  could  marry  such  a 
cirl  as  Amelia.  She  had  withheld  her  consent  to  his  mar- 
riage  in  his  early  life  to  a  girl  whom  he  fondly  loved,  and 
since  then  he  had  grown  moody,  restless,  wandering  and 
wretched.  She  fondly  imagined  that  wedlock  would 
change  his  temper,  and  as  Amelia  was  entirely  to  her 
liking  she  endeavored  by  every  means  in  her  power  to 
induce  him  to  address  her.  Yielding  to  her  'persuasions 
and  to  the  siren  charms  of  a  beautiful  girl, 'in  an  evil  hour 
he  offered  his  hand  to  Miss  Montcalm,  which,  with  affected 
shyness,  but  with  real  exultation,  she  accejited,  giving  no 
thought  to  her  betrothed,  thus  cruelly  betrayed  by  her 
treachery.  Rodney  dreamed  not  that^he  would  ever  love 
again  like  he  had  in  the  si)ring-tide  of  his  life  ;  he  thought, 
too,  that  his  mother  was  correct  in  her  views  in  regard  to 
his  marriage;  he  admired  Amelia's  beauty  and  saw  that 
she  was  anxious  to  win  his  regard,  and  so  had  looked 
forward  to  his  marriage  with  her  in  exactly  one  year  from 
their  betrothal,  if  not  with  joy,  at  least]  without  regret. 


142  THEN   AND   NOW  ; 

But  his  acquaintance  with  Hope  had  revealed  to  him  the 
fact  that  a  second  love  may  be  fully  as  deep,  if  not  deeper 
than  the  first.  On  his  introduction  to  her  he  had  neither 
admired  her  face  nor  her  manners,  but  in  every  subsequent 
meeting  he  found  himself  strong!}^  attracted  by  her.  The 
ver^^  singularity  of  her  disposition  had  for  him  a  powerful 
charm.  The  strange  mixture  of  child  and  woman,  the 
determined,  conscientious  nature,  linked  with,  the  playful- 
ness of  extreme  youth,  the  truth  and  frankness  of  her 
disi^osition,  her  talent  and  independence,  and  this  admi- 
rable union  of  qualities,  set  off  by  a  face  and  form  which, 
if  not  perfectly  beautiful,  were  certainly  far  above  the 
average  woman,  had  completely  enthralled  Rodney.  He 
felt  at  times  that  he  had  always  known  and  loved  Hope, 
she  seemed  so  thoroughly  a  part  of  his  existence.  A 
hundred  times  did  he  resolve  to  break  his  engagement  with 
Amelia,  and  a  hundred  times  did  a  higli  sense  of  honor 
impel  him  to  act  differentl3\  He  grew  wretched — more 
miserable  than  he  had  ever  been  before.  His  friends  and 
acquaintances  wondered  at  the  gloom  for  which  they  could 
assign  no  cause,  and  his  mother  was  anxious  about  him. 
But  he  confided  his  troubles  to  no  one.  His  miserj^  was 
heightened,  yet  by  a  strange  contradiction  lessened,  by  the 
reflection  that  if  Hope  loved  him  she,  too,  would  be  ren- 
dered unhappy.  Something  in  her  manner,  in  her  tone  of 
voice,  wliile  talking  to  him — in  her  very  looks,  had  betrayed 
her  feelings  for  him,  all  unconsciously  to  her.  He  felt 
quite  certain  that  she  cared  for  him.  Sometimes  he  thought 
of  ceasing  to  visit  her,  and  he  would  stay  away  from  Mr. 
AVatkins'  for  awhile,  but  something  seemed  ever  to  throw 
them  together,  and  he  learned,  but  learned  "too  late,"  that 
she  was  the  polar  star  of  his  existence.  At  last,  worn-out 
with  the  continual  conflict,  he  determined  to  tell  her  all, 
though  her  plainly  expressed  opinion  of  such  matters  left 
him  no  hope  of  winning  her,  if  she  knew  the  truth,  even 


OR  hope's  first  school.  143 

if  he  was  dishonorable  enough  to  desert  Amelia  for  her. 
He  hated  the  idea  of  her  thinking  him  false  or  fickle, -how- 
ever, and  so  told  her  the  exact  state  of  affairs  ;  with  what 
result  the  reader  knows  already.  Perhaps  but  few  girls 
would  have  acted  as  Hope  did,  and  she  might  not  have 
done  so  at  all  periods  of  her  life  ;  but  of  late  Christian 
X)rinciples  had  taken  a  very  de^p  root  in  her  heart,  and  she 
felt  that  it  would  be  very  wrong  to  do  anything  to  win 
another  woman's  affianced  husband,  even  though  that  one 
had  injured  her  very  deeply  in  the  past.  But  it  cost  her  a 
bitter  struggle  to  carry  out  her  principles.  Not  until  she 
felt  that  Rodney's  presence  would  cheer  her  no  longer  did 
she  realize  the  magnitude  of  her  loss.  It  was  comjiara- 
tively  eas}'  to  speak  of  the  dreary  future  when  he  was  by 
her  side,  his  dark  eyes  gazing  fondly  upon  her,  his  voice 
telling  her  of  the  love  he  bore  her  ;  but  now  that  he  seemed 
to  have  faded  out  ot  her  lifej  it  was  at  times  very  hard  to 
endure  the  thought  of  a  life-time  separation  from  the 
object  of  her  tenderest  regard.  During  the  hours  of  her 
school,  when  her  whole  attention  was  needed  for  the  duties 
of  the  day,  employment  served  as  an  opiate  to  pain,  but 
when  the  curtains  of  night  were  drawn  around  her,  or 
during  the  sacred  stillness  of  the  Snbbath  evening,  when 
slie  had  full  opx^ortunity  for  reflection,  she  would  often 
catch  herself  dreaming  of  Rodney  and  wondering  where  he 
was  and  wdiether  he  ever  thought  of  her  now.  Her  prepa- 
rations for  her  school  exhibition  went  on.  Even  her 
cherished  drawings  were  neglected  in  her  anxious  desire  to 
have  it  a  success.  Rehearing  dialogues  and  speeches  after 
school  hours,  and  hearing  the  scholars  rehearse  them, 
l^ractising  tableau  scenes,  making  artificial  flowers  to  adorn 
tlie  stage,  and  devising  appropriate  mottoes  for  the  same, 
jogging  the  memories  of  her  patrons  in  regard  to  nrrangv- 
ments  she  deemed  necessary,  going  through  a  workl  of  toil 
undreamed  of  by  those  who  have  never  tried  it,  no  wonder 


144  THEN    AND    NOW  ; 

that  the  bloom  on  her  cheek  faded  and  she  grew  thinner 
than  ever.  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Watkins  noticed  the  change  and 
ascribed  it  all  to  Rodney. 

"  She  has  never  been  the  same,"  said  the  lady  privately 
to  her  husband,  "since  the  last  day  Mr.  Gilbert  was  here. 
She  is  too  proud  to  wittingly  betray  her  feelings,  yet  I  can 
easily  see  the  difference." 

"Can  it  be  possible  that  he  has  trifled  with  her?" 
inquired  Mr.  Watkins. 

"I hardly  think  so,"  was  her  reply,  " for  the  last  even- 
ing he  was  here  he  looked  as  sad  as  if  he  liad  just  heard 
his  own  death  warrant  read." 

"At  any  rate,"  said  he,* "it  is  reported  that  he  is  court- 
ing a  young  lady  in  town  who  has  lately  come  there  on  a 
visit,  and  I  think  I  shall  let  Miss  Hope  know  of  it.  It  will 
be  the  greatest  kindness  that  I  can  do  her,  for  she  is  too 
proud,  I  think,  to  suffer  herself  to  love  a  man  who  does 
not  care  for  her." 

The  next  morning  at  the  breakfast  table  he  said : 

"  Miss  Hope,  there  is  now,  I  hear,  the  prettiest  girl  in 
town  who  has  ever  been  there.  Though  this  is  her  second 
visit  there  the  young  fellows  are  half  crazy  about  her. 
Mr.  Gilbert,  they  say,  is  waiting  on  her." 

"  Who  is  she,"  she  inquired,  controlling  her  feelings  by 
a  strong  effort. 

"Her  name,  I  think,  is  Montcalm— Miss  Amelia  Mont- 
calm ;  probably  she  is  of  French  descent." 

Mrs.  Watkins  stole  a  look  at  Hope  and  saw  that  her  face 
was  of  an  ashen  paleness,  though  she  was  sipping  her  coffee 
as  if  quite  calm.  She  thought  her  husband  cruel  in  his 
kindness,  and  strove  to  mend  matters, 

"I  do  not  envy  the  girl  who  marries  Rodney  Gilbert," 
she  remarked.  "  He  is  rich  and  somewhat  talented,  it  is 
true,  but  sarcastic  and  hard  to  ]3lease." 

"I  think,  so  far  as  1  can  Judge  of  him,"    said  Hope, 


OR  hope's  first  school.  145 

unfalteringly,   "that  Mr.  Gilbert  is  both  noble  and  true, 
and  I  believe  he  will  be  kind  to  his  wife  if  he  marries." 

Her  words  left  her  hearers  more  mystified  than  ever. 
Could  it  be  possible  that  she  spoke  thus  to  utterly  mislead 
others  in  regard  to  her  feelings  for  Rodney,  or  was  she 
weak  enough  to  defend  one  who  had  jilted  her?  They 
could  not  tell,  and  so  wondered  in  vain  in  regard  to  the 
matter.  As  for  our  heroine,  she  was  deeply  agitated  to 
know  that,  under  existing  circumstances,  Amelia  was  not 
far  from  her.  She  dreaded  the  idea  of  meeting  her,  espe- 
cially in  company  with  Rodney.  The  thought  was  very 
bitter.  One  evening  soon  after  this  she  had  started  from 
the  school-room  en  route  for  home,  when  the  clatter  of 
horses'  hoofs  behind  her  caused  her  to  turn  her  head,  and 
she  descried  a  lady  and  gentleman  approaching  whom, 
upon  first  glimpse,  she  recognized  as  Rodney  and  Amelia. 
They  checked  the  speed  of  their  horses  as  they  neared  her, 
and  she  had  a  full  opportunity  to  observe  them  as  they 
passed.  Amelia,  with  her  lair  face,  her  golden  curls 
streaming  in  the  wind,  the  blue  riding  habit  setting  off  the 
graceful  form  to  the  best  advantage,  and  the  blue  plume 
on  her  hat  mingling  with  her  yellow  locks,  seemed  too  fair 
for  earth,  and  her  escort  looked  handsomer  than  Hope  had 
ever  seen  him  before.  Both  bowed  as  they  passed,  Amelia 
with  a  supercilious  smile,  Rodney  profoundly  and  almost 
reverently.  The  young  teacher  had  never  suffered  a 
moment  of  keener  distress  in  her  life.  The  contrast  be- 
tween her  and  Amelia  was  so  striking  in  every  respect  that 
for  awhile  she  felt  almost  humiliated. 

"She  is  beautiful,  rich  and  born  under  a  lucky  star, 
while  I  am  neither  jiretty,  rich  nor  fortunate,"  was  her 
unspoken  thought,  crushed  back  by  a  determined  will. 
Then  she  wondered  why  Rodney  had  chosen  to  ride  along 
the  road  which  she  frequented.  Could  he  not  have  spared 
her  the  mortification  of  meeting  him  under  such  circum- 


146  NOW   AND    THEN 


J 


stances  ?  or  did  he  wisli  to  see  her,  if  but  for  a  moment? 
or  could  it  be  possible  that  he  had  deceived  her  after  all  ? 
and  was  her  rival  the  real  object  of  his  love  ?    This  last 
thought    she    suppressed    as    disparaging    to   her  lover. 
"Rodney  had  not  deceived  her;  the  tone  of  his  voice,  his 
looks,  his  agitation,  had  betrayed  him,  even  more  than 
his  words.     Perhaps,  though,  knowing  his  attachment  for 
her  to  be  useless,  he  had  striven  to  love  Amelia  and  had 
succeeded."     She  strove  to  resign  herself  to  this  thought, 
but  it  would  not  do.     She  was  tortured  by  reflections  that 
would  come  unbidden  in  her  mind.     Herbert  Ransom  was 
a  very  dear  friend  to  her  during  these  bitter  hours.     Intui- 
tively he  seemed   to  guess   at  the   truth,    and  in   many 
different  ways  strove  to  win  her  heart  from  sadness  without 
once  intruding  on  her  grief  or  its  source.     He  never  spoke 
of  Amelia  now,  but  oftentimes,  when  in  her  company,  he 
dwelt  feelingly   on   the   blessedness   of  affliction,    on  the 
passing  nature  of  earthly  joy  and  the  stability  of  Heaven, 
on  the  goodness  of  the  Lord  in  wounding  that  he  may  heal, 
in  giving  pain  but  to  make  pleasure  the  sweeter.     Then  he 
contrived   many   little   ways   of    diverting   her   mind;    he 
escorted  her  to  church,  carried  her  to  ride  of  evenings,  and 
managed  to  win  her  to  cheerfulness.     Of  course  Madam 
Rumor  even  noised  it  around  that  he  was  in  love  with  our 
heroine,  and  Rodney  heard,  with  an  anguish  that  he  could 
scarcely  conceal,   that  the  two  were  betrothed.     In  vain 
reason  whispered  that  it  ought  not  to  affect  him,  as  she  was 
already  beyond  his  reach ;  the  thought  awakened  all  the 
latent    jealousy  of   his  heart,    and  he  was  restless   and 
miserable,  even  while  the  music  of  Amelia's  voice  filled 
the  air,  redolent  with  the  perfume  of  roses,  and  the  blue 
sky  seemed  too  pure  and  bright  for  aught  but  happiness 
to  rest  beneath  it.     Hope  had  touched  a  chord  in  his  nature 
which  no  other  hand  but  hers  could  thrill,  but  the  harmony 
she  could  awaken  turned  to  discord  in  her  absence.     He 


OR  hope's  first  school.  147 

fancied  what  a  different  man  he  would  be  if  she  were  his, 
how  all  the   misanthropy  engendered  by  long,    loveless 
years,  would  be  swept  away  from  the  chamber  of  his  heart ; 
of  how  his  better  nature  would  expand  under  her  influence, 
and  his  whole  being  be  filled  with  happy  love  as  in  his 
boyhood,  and  it  maddened  him  to  think  of  being  deprived 
of  her.    Oh,  for  one  touch  of  her  hand,  for  one  sweet  word 
of  comfort  from  her  lips  !     He  turned  almost  with  horror 
from  the  thought  of  his  union  with   Amelia.     She  was 
beautiful,  accomplished,  fascinating,  yet  he  knew  now  why 
he  had  not  loved  her  before — she  was  destitute  of  heart  'i 
The  evening  on  which  they  had  overtaken  Hope  it  was  not 
his  intention  to  take  that  route,  but  as  she  expressed  a 
particular  desire  to  go  in  that  direction,  he  had  no  alterna- 
tive but  to  do  as  she  wished.     After  seeing  the  young 
teacher  she  remarked  *'  that  she  was  pretty,  and  that  her 
face   seemed  familiar;"   and  when   Rodney  told  her  her 
name,  she  rejoined  carelessly,   "  Oh,  yes,  I  knew  that  I  had 
seen  her  before;  we  were  schoolmates  once."     Instantly 
there  flashed  into  Rodney's  mind  the  memory  of  Hoi:)e's 
agitation  when  she  saw  Amelia's  picture,  as  also  her  total 
silence  in  regard  to  their  acquaintanceship,  and  he  was 
convinced  that  some  mystery  underlay  the  whole  matter. 
For  the  remainder  of  the  way  he  was  almost  entirely 
silent,  and  Amelia  grew  pettish  and  irritated  at  the  too 
evident  abstraction  of   his  mind.      She  wondered  if  the 
sight  of   Hope  did  not  have  something  to  do   with  his 
conduct,   and    she    determined   to  pry  into  the  matter. 
Meanwhile  the  teacher  was  so  occupied  with  her  school 
duties,  as  also  in  receiving  and  returning  calls  from  her 
patrons  as  to  give   her  but  little   time  to  think.      Mrs. 
Ambler,  Mrs.  Powers,  Mrs.  Turnnage,  Mrs.  Hunter,  and 
last,  but  not  least.  Miss  Rachel  Tyler,  had  all  visited  her, 
and  she  felt  in  duty  bound  to  return  their  calls.     Herbert 
Ransom  offered  to  accompany  her  to  Miss  Rachel's,  for  he 


148  NO^V    AND    THEN 


was   well   acquainted  with    her,    she  being  a   consistent 
member  of  his  church.     The  other  ladies  whom  Hope  had 
called  on  were  all  the  wives  of  w^ell-to-do  men,  and  were 
X)leasant,  sociable  and  hospitable.     Miss  Rachel  belonged 
to  a  rather  different  sphere,  though  occupying  a  respectable 
position    in    society.      Her    chances,    though,    had   been 
exceedingly  narrow,  her  education  limited  and  her  life  one 
of  hardship.    Her  house  was  four  miles  from  Mr.  Watkins' 
The  house  was  about  three  hundred  yards  from  the  main 
road.     It  was  a  frame  house,  with  but  two  rooms  beside 
the  one  back  of  the  main  joortion  of  the  dwelling,  which 
answered  for  a  kitchen  ;  yet  Hope  was  struck  with  the  air 
of  thrift  and  neatness  pervading  everything  in  and  around 
it.     The  imlings  around  the  yard  were  in  perfect  repair, 
and  were  newly  whitewashed  ;  the  j^ard  was  tilled  with  the 
perfume  of  flowers  and  carefully  swei:)t,  and  the  lioor  of 
the  piazza   and   two  rooms  composing  the  dwelling  were 
scoured  until  they  looked  clean  enough  for  Queen  Victoria 
to  take  her  meals  on  them,  and  every  piece  of  unpainted 
furniture  in  the  room  was  of  immaculate  whiteness.     The 
window  curtains,    counterimnes,   towels   and   pillow-slips 
were  all  home-made,  woven  by  the  industrious  Miss  Rachel, 
and  against  the  whitewashed  walls  hung  several  pictures — 
the  portraits  of    General  Washington  and  liis  wife,   the 
death  of  Stonewall  Jackson  and  one  or  two  fancy  faces  of 
young  girls  with  a  profusion  of  curls  and  an  abundance  of 
lace  around  their  low-necked,  short-sleeved  dresses.    These 
last  lectures  Euphemia,  Octavia  and  Adolphus  regarded 
as  models  of  feminine  beauty,  and  exclamations  of  "Ain't 
they  pretty  !     I  do  wish  I  was  as  pretty  as  they  are  !"  were 
quite  common  with  these  simple  children  of  nature,  as  tliej- 
surveyed  them.     Poor  Miss  Rachel  had  bought  thera  all 
from  an  agent  and  paid  a  most  exorbitant  price  for  them, 
but  possibly  she  got  the  worth  of  her  money,  after  all,  so 
genuine  was  her  delight  in  possessing  them  and  in  seeing 


OR  hope's  first  school.  149 

the  cliildren  enjoy  looking  at  them.  When  Hoj^e  arrived 
she  was  out  in  the  liitchen  "fixin'  some  light  bread,"  she 
said  ;  but  she  made  her  appearance  in  a  very  short  time, 
and  seemed  much  pleased  to  see  Hope. 

"I  thought  maybe  you  wouldn't  come  to  see  me,"  was 
her  frank  avowal.  "  I  know  you  have  so  much  more  book 
larnin'  than  me,  and  then,  too,  I'm  old  and  poor,  till  I 
thought  perhaps  you  wouldn't  think  it  worth  your  while 
to  come." 

The  young  teacher  was  taken  so  much  by  surprise  that 
she  scarcely  knew  what  to  say,  but  she  told  her  that  it  was 
"not  onl}^  a  duty,  but  a  pleasure  to  visit  her,"  and  assured 
her  that  "she  was  perfectl}^  charmed  with  her  home." 

"Well,  I  have  managed  to  keej?  things  together  here, 
but  it  has  been  hard  work,  Miss  Hope.  It  'pears  to  me 
sometimes  that  the  Lord  makes  some  people  jest  to  work, 
and  I  think  I  must  be  one  of  'em,  but  I  don't  mean  to 
complain.  I  helped  my  mother  raise  all  her  other  children, 
and  when  I  began  to  think  of  marrying  and  having  a  home 
of  my  own,  my  oldest  brother  (though  all  was  younger 
than  me)  sez  : 

"Rachel,  I  wouldn't  marry  ;  I  would  send  Will  Brown- 
ing adrift;  he's  a  lazy,  drinking  fellow,  and  won't  make 
you  a  good  husband.  Well,  maybe  he  was  right ;  anyway 
I  took  his  advice,  and  sure  enough  Will  does  get  drunk 
and  don't  make  a  good  husband,  but  maybe  ef  he'd 
married  his  lirst  love  and  had  had  a  different  sort  of  wife 
he'd  been  ditferent." 

Hope  was  amused,  yet  touched  at  this  display  of 
womanly  weakness  in  one  like  Miss  Rachel.  Evidently 
the  weight  of  sixty  years,  the  loss  of  hope,  absence,  time, 
nor  anything  else,  had  the  power  to  entirely  diive  fiom 
remembrance  her  dream  of  first  love.  Its  menn)r3-  in  Miss 
Rachel's  case  was  lasting  as  life. 

"Well,"   Miss  Tyler  continued,    "it  was  a  good  thing 


150  NOW   AND   THEN  ; 

for  brother  that  I  did  stay  single,  for  wheu  he  left  these 
three  orphan  children  I  don't  know  what  would  have 
become  of  them  if  it  hadn't  been  for  me.  He  just  left  this 
place  and  them  to  me,  and  nobody  knows  what  work  it  has 
been  to  get  along.     Sometimes  I  help  hoe  cotton." 

' '  Help  hoe !' '  exclaimed  Hope  ;  "  is  it  possible  ? ' ' 

"  Yes,  indeed,  me  and  these  children  generally  does  most 
all  the  work.  But  I've  scratched  along  and  gotten  a  little 
aforehanded  now,  and  intend  to  give  them  all  a  chance  to 
get  an  eddication.  I  feels  the  need  of  it  myself,  and  don't 
want  them  to  be  like  me." 

"Miss  Rachel,  you  are  more  useful  and  have  done  more 
good  in  the  world  than  many  educated  people  that  I 
know." 

"Yes,  child,  but  sposin'  I  had  an  eddication,  jest  look 
how  much  good  I  could  do  helpin'  these  children  along  in 
their  lessons,  readin'  the  Bible  to  them  and  singin'.  Some- 
times when  I  goes  to  church  in  town  and  hears  Mrs. 
Ambler  a  singin'  and  playin'  on  the  organ,  I  think  I 
wouldent  begrudge  no  money  ef  I  could  do  jest  like  her." 

"True  enough,"  replied  the  teacher,  but  you  have  im- 
proved your  one  talent  more  than  many  have  their  ten." 

"  Miss  Hope,  I  don't  see  why  it  is,  but  you  ain't  a  bit 
like  some  teachers  we've  had.  Why,  Miss  Mary  Perkins 
used  to  lly  by  here  with  her  beaux,  and  never  even  turn 
her  head  to  speak  to  me.  I  didn'  t  care  to  send  the  children 
to  her,  she  was  so  proud,  though  folks  said  she  knew  a 
heap  in  books.  But  you  seem  to  know  how  to  feel  for 
poor,  ignorant  folks  like  me— not  but  what  I  feel  myself 
as  good  and  respectable  as  anybody,"  straightening  herself 
up  ;  "but  there's  a  difference." 

"Yes,  there  is  a  difference,"  replied  Hope,  "but  it  is 
just  the  difference  that  to  some  the  Master  gives  ten,  to 
some  live,  and  to  others  but  one  talent,  and  the  one  who 
has  ten  has  ten  times  the  responsibility  that  the  person  has 


OR  hope's  first  school.  151 

who  has  but  one  talent.  Shall  I  then  look  down  on  one 
not  so  highly  gifted  as  myself,  when  my  gifts  render  me 
liable  to  greater  punishment  ?" 

"Of  course  'taint  right,  but  people  does  it  all  the  same. 
Brother  Ransom,  wont  you  take  this  little  basket  and  go 
get  some  plums  for  Miss  Hope  ?    I  know  she  11  like  'em." 

"That  I  do,"  replied  she;  "but  suppose  we  all  go.  I 
want  to  see  your  little  place." 

She  was  well  rewarded  for  her  pains.  The  farm  was  a 
small  one,  but  carefully  tilled  and  kept  in  good  order.  The 
corn  looked  flourishing,  the  cotton  the  same,  and  the  wheat 
waving  in  the  breeze  was  almost  ready  for  the  sickle.  The 
garden,  which  was  neatly  railed  in,  bore  abundant  evidence 
of  the  care  which  had  been  taken  of  it.  Beans,  Irish  pota- 
toes, squashes,  tomatoes,  okra  and  other  vegetables,  had 
each  their  appropriate  place,  and  the  walks  were  bordered 
with  "sweet  shrub,"  snow-ball  and  roses.  Raspberry 
bushes  grew  in  profusion  around  the  palings,  and  there 
was  a  small  space  allotted  to  strawberries.  Outside  was  a 
thin  patch  of  roasting-ears.  Then  there  was  a  fowl-yard, 
surrounded  by  a  very  high  fence,  where  innumerable  fowls 
were  cackling,  chucking  and  gobbling. 

"I  sujipose  you  raise  a  great  many  chickens.  Miss 
Rachel  ?"  inquired  Mr.  Ransom, 

"  Yes  sir,  I  sell  enough  eggs  and  chickens  every  year  to 
buy  my  sugar,  coffee  and  snuff,  besides  all  our  Sunday 
clothes." 

"Pretty  good,"  he  replied  ;  " you  are  certainly  a  good 
manager.  I  know  a  plenty  of  strong,  healthy  men,  with 
no  more  to  support  them  than  you  have,  and  with  equally 
as  good  a  start,  who  don't  seem  to  get  along." 

"That's  because  they  don't  work,  spend  their  time  and 
money  at  grog-shops  instead  of  at  home,  or  else  their  wives 
don't  know  how  to  manage.  Some  men  work  hard  and 
their  wives  waste  what  they  make.  Something' s  most  always 


152  THEN    AND    NOW  ; 

wrong  when  people  don't  get  along  around  here,  for  every- 
body can  get  along  who  will  work  and  save,  if  they  are 
health}^     That's  one  blessin'  I  enjoy,  brother  Ransom." 

"  And  a  very  great  one,  my  sister ;  it  is,  next  to  a  good 
conscience  and  good  sense,  the  greatest  of  God's  gifts  to 
j)Oor  fallen  man." 

They  had  reached  the  orchard  by  this  time,  whicli, 
though  a  small  one,  contained  several  varieties  of  delicious 
fruit.  The  trees  were  hanging  with  plums,  barely  ripe,  and 
it  was  an  easy  task  to  fill  the  little  basket.  As  they  reached 
the  house  upon  their  return,  the  three  children  who  had 
been  off  attending  to  the  sheep  and  hogs,  as  also  bringing 
their  one  milch  cow  home,  came  in  the  j'ard.  Great  was 
their  delight  at  beholding  their  teacher. 

"I  am  a  goin'  to  bring  you  a  basket  of  plums  every 
day,"  said  Adolphus,  ''until  they' re^ gone." 

"I  shall  certainly  be  obliged,"  was  her  reply,  "fori 
dearlj^  love  plums.  But  you  won't  have  to  bring  them 
long,  school  will  be  out  next  week,  you  know.'' 

"lam  so  glad,"  the  children  exclaimed  ;  "but  not  to 
part  with  you.  Miss  Hope.  I  wish  you  could  stay  with  us 
alwaj'^s." 

As  they  all  stood  together  on  the  piazza  she,  with  an 
artistic  eye,  took  in  the  whole  scene.  The  house  was 
situated  on  a  slight  rise,  and  on  either  side  of  the  avenue 
leading  to  it  the  soil  was  in  a  high  state  of  cultivation.  On 
one  side  was  a  field  of  corn,  the  green  blades  contrasting 
beautifully  with  the  dark  soil  on  which  it  grew  ;  on  tlie 
other  a  field  of  wheat  waved  on  the  evening  breeze.  A 
patch  of  cotton  was  opi)osite  one  end  of  the  house,  the 
garden  and  orchard  the  other.  The  sinking  sun  touched 
the  tree-toiDS  which  girded  the  place  with  his  golden  beams  ; 
the  birds  were  singing  their  farewell  songs  ;  everything 
breathed  an  atmosphere  of  repose  and  peace  ;  everything 
bespoke  the  blessedness  of  industry  and  contentment. 


OR  hope's  first  school.  153 

"I  will  never  forget  this  visit  so  long  as  I  live,"  said  she 
to  Herbert  Ransom  upon  their  return;  "I  have  learned 
many  very  useful  lessons  this  afternoon.  No  one  loses  by 
visiting  the  good,  no  matter  how  lowly  their  station." 

"  Miss  Rachel,  though  peculiar,  is  one  of  '  the  salt  of  the 
earth,'  rejoined  he  ;  few,  indeed,  are  like  her." 

Mrs.  Hartwell,  Mrs.  Twining  and  Mrs.  Simmons  did  not 
call  upon  Hope  at  Mrs.  Watkins'  house,  and  from  the 
description  she  heard  of  the  two  former  ladies,  she  did  not 
regret  it,  as  she  did  not  care  to  cultivate  their  acquaintance. 
Poor  old  Mrs.  Simmons,  however,  she  rather  liked.  There 
were  some  of  her  patrons  whose  wives  she  did  not  see  until 
the  day  of  her  school  exhibition.  That  day  was  both 
wished  for  and  dreaded,  by  our  heroine. 


CHAPTER  XV. 


The  roll-call  was  read  in  school,  and  when  Violet 
Leonard's  name  was  called  there  was  no  answer. 

"  Does  anyone  know  why  Violet  is  not  here  ? "  inquired 
Hope. 

"She  is  sick,  ma'am,"  said  one  of  the  scholars,  "I 
believe,  with  diphtheria." 

Diphtheria  !  How  many  families  have  cause  to  shudder 
at  that  word  ;  over  how  many  households  has  it  hovered  a 
destroying  angel,  smiting  the  little  ones  with  a  fatal  stroke 
and  leaving  desolation  in  its  path  !  Hope's  heart  sank  at 
the  sound,  a  sad  foreboding  filled  her  mind.  She  could 
scarcely  perform  her  day's  duties  with  ordinary  cheerful- 
ness. She  determined  to  visit  Violet  at  the  very  earliest 
opportunity,  and  the  next  evening  after  school,  according 


154  THEN   AND   NOW  ; 

to  a  previous  arrangement,  Mrs.  Watkins  came  by  in  the 
buggy  for  lier. 

"I  cannot  carry  James  or  Willie  with  me,"  said  she, 
"and  I  shall  even  be  careful  in  changing  my  clothes  after 
I  return  home,  to  prevent  my  little  ones  from  running  any 
l^ossible  risk  of  contagion  ;  but  I  cannot  keep  away  from 
a  neighbor  when  in  distress  through  selfish  fears  for  my 
own  household/' 

It  was  only  a  mile  from  the  school-house  to  Mrs.  Leon- 
ard's. The  residence  of  that  lady  was  a  picturesque- 
looking  one,  though  evidently  not  in  as  good  repair  as  it 
should  be.  But  the  lovely  llower-yard  betokened  the 
refined  taste  of  its  inmates.  Hope  had  heard  of  Mrs. 
Leonard  as  a  pretty  woman,  but  she  was  not  prepared  to 
see  the  girlish-looking  beauty  who  met  them  at  the  door 
with  the  easy  grace  of  a  well-bred  woman,  though  on  her 
face  a  sad  look  rested,  and  a  wear}^,  anxious  expression,  in 
striking  contrast  with  the  peachy  bloom  of  the  jjlump 
cheeks  and  the  youthful  appearance  of  the  lady.  After 
inviting  them  in  the  parlor  and  chatting  for  a  few  moments, 
she  spoke  of  Violet's  sickness,  and  inquired  if  they  would 
like  to  see  her  ?  On  being  answered  in  the  affirmative,  she 
led  the  way  to  another  room. 

"I  am  perhaps  unreasonable  in  my  anxiety  about 
Violet,"  she  remarked,  as  they  went;  "but  diphtheria 
frightens  me  quite  as  much  as  yellow  fever  would.' ' 

By  Violet's  bedside  sat  a  lady  whom  Hope  had  never 
seen  before,  a  tall,  elegantly  formed  lady,  with  a  plain 
face.  She  was  clad  in  black  robes,  and  there  was  an  exqui- 
site neatness  about  her  dress  which  struck  Hope,  even  at 
the  moment  of  their  introduction.  She  was  introduced  to 
Hope  as  Miss  Hunter.  Violet's  eyes  were  strangely  bright, 
and  her  usually  pale  cheeks  flushed,  and  Hope  thought 
her  more  beautiful  than  she  had  ever  before  seen  her.  She 
seemed  not  to  wish  to  talk.     Hope  had  never  seen  her  thus, 


OR  hope's  first  school.  155 

and  it  distressed  her  to  see  her  so  changed.  She  kissed  the 
sweet  little  brow  and  sat  down  by  the  bedside,  quietly 
taking  the  feather-brush  to  keep  away  the  flies.  There 
was  a  step  in  the  hall,  a  familiar  step,  yet  one  she  had  not 
heard  for  several  days,  for  Mr.  Leonard  had  not  been  home 
since  Violet's  illness,  and  the  little  one's  face  perceptibly 
brightened.  Mr.  Leonard  was  unmistakably  a  handsome 
man,  though  dissipation  had  placed  its  seal  on  liis  counte 
nance.  There  was  a  look  of  tender  anxiety  on  his  face,  as 
he  saw  his  child  extended  on  a  couch  of  illness.  He  was 
presented  to  Hope,  bowed  courteously,  but  seemed  wholly 
wrapped  up  in  thoughts  of  Violet. 

"  How  long  has  she  been  sick  ?"  he  inquired  of  his  wife, 
and  on  being  informed  of  the  length  of  her  illness  he 
inquired  if  Dr.  Bertram  had  been  sent  for. 

"  Yes,"  replied  Mrs.  Leonard,  "he  has  been  here  twice.'' 

He  sat  down  by  the  bedside,  and  taking  Violet's  two 
little  hands,  rubbed  them  over  his  face. 

"  Papa,"  she  said  in  a  whisper  that  was  still  audible  to 
the  little  party  assembled  in  the  sick  room,  "are  you  a 
bad  man  ? " 

"  Why,  my  child,  what  a  strange  question  !  I  hope  not ; 
but  what  makes  you  ask  ?  " 

"Well,  Joe  Liggins  said  so,"  she  replied,  "because  he 
said  you  made  his  father  drunk  and  won  all  his  money, 
and  then  he  went  home  and  beat  him  and  beat  his  mother. 
He  said  something  bad  was  going  to  happen  to  you,  and 
then  I  got  sick,  but  I  would  rather  it  should  be  me  than 
you,  papa." 

A  swarthy  glow  burned  on  Mr.  Leonard's  cheek,  a  flush 
of  mingled  shame  and  anger,  and  his  eyes  flashed  as  he 
said  : 

"Joe  Liggins  had  better  keep  his  tongue  instead  of 
prating  about  what  he  has  no  business.  I  did  not  make  his 
father  drunk,  and  if  I  won  his  money  it  was  done  fairly 


156  THEN   AND    NOW  ; 

and  I  did  not  make  him  beat  his  family  either.  Hope 
stole  a  glance  at  Mrs.  Leonard.  All  of  the  color  had  fled 
from  her  face,  and  there  was  a  strong  despair  there,  an 
utterly  reckless  look,  as  of  one  who,  having  nothing  to  live 
for,  has  no  fear  of  death.  A  cold,  superstitions  fear  crept 
over  Hope.  She  was  not  much  of  a  believer  in  temporal 
punishment,  for  does  not  the  "sun  shine  on  the  good  and 
the  evil  alike?"  Yet  it  seemed  to  her  that  from  that 
moment  she  believed  that  Violet's  fate  was  sealed.  In 
mercy  to  her,  as  well  as  in  mercy  to  her  father,  she  would 
be  taken  ;  for  how  could  such  a  tender,  sensitive  little 
creature  ever  bear  the  trials  to  which  she  must  necessarily 
be  exposed?  and  perhax)s  her  death  might  win  her  father  to 
righteousness.  A  mist  swam  before  her  eyes  at  the  thought, 
a  sick  feeling  took  possession  of  her  heart.  Was  it  to  be 
the  case  that  she  could  not  even  love  a  child  that  the  little 
one  did  not  die  ?  Was  she  destined  to  an  utterly  loveless 
existence?  To  describe  the  tableau  after  Violet's  unex- 
pected words  would  require  better  descriptive  powers  than 
we  iDOssess.  Mr.  Leonard's  face  expressed  anger  and 
shame  combined  ;  Mrs.  Leonard's  was  utterly  despairing  ; 
Miss  Hunter  strove  to  hide  her  feelings  by  a  veil  of  polite 
indiff'erence,  while  Hope  and  Mrs.  Watkins  looked  all  the 
sadness  they  felt — a  sadness  not  unmixed  wqtli  indignation 
against  Mr.  Leonard  for  bringing  sorrow  on  an  innocent 
wife  and  child. 

"  A  man  cannot  pursue  any  calling  without  meeting  with 
opposition  on  every  side,"  continued  he.  "Mr.  Liggins 
was  just  angry  because  he  lost.  Had  he  won  it  w^ould 
liave  been  all  right.'' 

Hope  noticed  the  excited  look  on  little  Violet's  face,  and 
forgetting  timidity  and  the  natural  embarrassment  of  a 
stranger  under  such  circumstances,  said  : 

"You  had  better  not  talk  much,  Mr.  Leonard,  as  you 
value  the  life  of  your  child ;  it  will  excite  her  too  much." 


OR  hope's  first  school.  157 

He  glared  at  her  for  a  moment,  but  she  quailed  not 
beneath  his  glance,  and  with  a  muttered  oath  he  strode  out 
of  the  room.  There  was  profound  silence  in  the  ax^artment 
for  a  few  moments.  Mrs.  Leonard,  overcome  by  emotions, 
sunk  on  her  knees  beside  Violet.  Mrs.  Watkins  and  Miss 
Hunter  sat  quietly  weeping,  while  Hoi")e,  with  almost 
superhuman  effort,  crushed  back  the  tears,  anxious  lest 
Violet  should  witness  them  and  inquire  into  their  cause. 
Thus,  for  a  few  moments  ;  then  Mrs.  Leonard  spoke  : 

"Excuse  me,  my  friends,  but  I  have  grown  weak  and 
nervous  of  late  ;  trouble  has  made  me  powerless  to  control 
myself." 

They  were  all  too  full  to  sx)eak,  and  after  a  sufficiently 
long  time  laad  elapsed  for  them  to  leave  without  still  more 
distressing  Mrs.  Leonard  by  an  abrupt  departure,  Mrs. 
Watkins  and  Hope  rose  to  go. 

"  I  will  come  again  to  see  you,  Violet,"  said  Hope,  "and 
if  you  continue  sick  will  be  here  Friday  night  to  wait  on 
you." 

The  little  girl  lookd  steadfastly  at  her -a  wistful  look  in 
the  clear  blue  eyes — but  said  nothing,  and  kissing  her 
brow  Hope  turned  away  with  a  sick  heart.  She  was  true 
to  her  promise,  returning  again  on  Friday  and  watching 
through  the  long,  weary  hours  with  untiring  patience, 
soothing  as  best  she  could  the  couch  of  her  little  favorite. 
In  a  few  days  Violet  was  thought  out  of  danger,  and  with 
a  lighter  heart  Hope  went  on  with  her  preparations  for  the 
school  exhibition.  Busy,  anxious  days  they  were,"  so 
freighted  with  absorbing  care  as  almost  to  drive  the  thought 
of  Rodney  Gilbert  from  her  mind.  Who  shall  deem  that 
intense  mental  effort  and  anxiety  is  only  for  those  who 
aspire  to  kingdoms  or  crowns  (  The  poor  country  teacher, 
laboring  for  the  good  of  her  pupils  and  anxious  to  gain  a 
reputation  as  a  successful  instructor,  may  suffer  every 
conflict  of  hope  and  fear  and  feel  as  intense  anxiety  to 


158 


THEN    AND    NOW 


accomplish  this  end,  as  a  general  to  win  a  battle,  or  the 
hero  to  gain  a  throne.  And  what  human  being  who  has 
not  exj^erienced  it  can  tell  the  almost  sickening  anxiety 
which  racks  the  mind,  when  our  own  success  is  partially 
dependent  on  the  efforts  of  others  ? 


CHAPTER  XVL 


[This  description  being  very  nearly  that  of  a  "school- 
breaking"  at  which  the  author  was  present,  we  trust  that 
any  defect  in  the  picture  will  be  kindly  overlooked.] 

The  necessary  arrangement  for  accommodating  such  a 
crowd  as  was  expected  at  the  "school-breaking"  had  all 
been  made  i^revious  to  the  eventful  da^^  itself,  and  by  the 
most  unremitting  exertions  on  her  own  part,  and  by  the 
assistance  of  ladies  of  the  neighborhood,  the  school-room 
presented  a  much  more  attractive  api)earance  than  usual, 
A  kind  of  stage  had.  been  improvised  for  the  occasion,  the 
background  of  which  was  decorated  with  evergreens,  inter- 
mingled with  flowers  and  festooned  at  proper  intervals. 
Pictures  were  hung  in  every  loop  and.  over  the  centre  of  the 
stage  was  susj^ended  a  rustic  hanging  basket,  filled  with 
trailing  vines.  The  doors  and  windows  were  also  decorated 
with  evergreens  and.  approjiriate  mottoes.  The  stage  was 
neatly  carpeted  and  had  a  row  of  footlights  in  front  of  it, 
as  the  exhibition  was  to  take  place  at  night.  The  girls,  all 
dressed  in  white,  looked  quite  prett}^  and  interesting,  but 
there  were  some  eccentricities  in  the  attire  of  one  or  two 
of  the  boys.  Thomas  Jefferson  and  George  Washington 
Simmons  each  wore  a  blue  suit,  with  shining  shirt-bosoms 


OR  hope's  first  school.  159 

and  collars  and  flaming  red  neck-ties.  This  last  item  of 
their  apparel  oif ended  Hope's  {esthetic  nature  to  sncli  an 
extent  that  she  ventured  to  suggest  a  change  in  it,  but  the 
[mortified  expressions  of  their  countenances  showed  so 
plainly  that  their  hearts  were  set  on  these  particular  arti- 
cles of  their  dress,  that  she  determined  to  let  them  remain 
as  they  were.  Josiali  and  Sam  Liggins  were  well  dressed, 
only  their  jDantaloons  were  a  trifle  too  short  and  their  shoes 
needed  blacking.  Hope  had  done  her  utmost,  both  by 
j)recept  and  example,  to  inculcate  neatness,  and  to  a  certain 
extent  good  taste  in  her  scholars,  but  what  teacher,  how- 
ever conscientious,  can  entirely  counteract  the  home 
influences  which  surround  a  pupil  ?  Instruction  can  do 
much,  the  outer  influences  of  the  world  can  effect  much, 
but  after  all  home  example  and  the  lessons  instilled  in  the 
little  ones  around  the  family  hearthstone  are  the  most 
powerful  of  all.  The  majority  of  Hope's  pupils,  however, 
presented  a  remarkably  good  appearance.  They  were  all 
seated  on  long  benches  upon  the  stage  on  this,  the  eventful 
night  of  the  exhibition,  and  to  one  interested  in  the  well- 
being  and  progress  of  the  young,  their  eager,  excited  faces 
and  youthful  forms  were  a  pleasing  spectacle.  It  suggested 
thoughts  of  a  future  irradiated  by  the  light  of  intelligence, 
instead  of  one  darkened  by  clouds  of  ignorance.  Hope 
herself  read  the  title  of  each  piece.  The  first  was  the 
"Lord's  Prayer,"  recited  by  the  whole  school  in  unison. 
As  they  stood,  with  heads  reverently  bowed,  and  repeated 
the  words  which  have  been  handed  down  to  us  for  eighteen 
centuries,  a  hush  fell  upon  the  audience — a  feeling  almost 
of  awe  pervaded  it.  It  was  childhood  speaking  to  matured 
years  and  pointing  the  way  to  Heaven.  A  song  came  next, 
whose  words  of  welcome  and  gladness  fell  gratefully  upon 
the  ears  of  the  hearers.  Then  David  Wheeler  came  forward, 
and  in  his  fine,  melodious  tones  and  clear  enunciation, 
made  the  opening    address,    thanking  the    audience   for 


160  THEN    AND   NOW  ; 

coming  to  hear  their  humble  efforts,  recalling  to  mind  the 
memories  of  the  past  few  months,  and  indulging  in  a 
glowing  picture  of  what  he  trusted  his  own  future  would 
be,  as  well  as  that  of  his.  schoolmates  and  of  the  Old  North 
State.  He  paid  a  grateful  tribute  to  his  teacher  and  to  her 
efforts  in  their  behalf,  and  ended  with  a  panegyric  on  the 
advantages  of  education.  This  speech  being  David's  own 
composition  was  much  admired,  and  was  rapturously 
applauded.  Music  followed.  Two  young  gentlemen  of 
the  neighborhood  had  volunteered  to  play  on  the  violin, 
Mrs.  Ambler  accompanying  them  on  the  organ.  This  gave 
agreeable  variety  to  the  entertainment.  A  kind  of  tableau 
piece,  entitled  "The  Seasons,"  in  which  Mrs,  Turnnage's 
three  children  and  Katie  Powers  personated,  respectively, 
Spring,  Summer,  Autumn  and  Winter,  was  next  in  order. 
There  was  a  little  corner  of  the  stage  partitioned  off  by 
curtains  to  which  the  pupils  withdrew  to  make  any  neces- 
sary additions  to  their  attire  in  each  piece.  Spring  was 
clad  in  a  light  green  dress,  with  a  crown  of  half-blown 
roses  on  her  head  ;  Summer  in  a  thin  white  one,  with 
flowers  more  fully  matured,  intermingled  with  early  fruits, 
in  her  hand  and  crowning  her  locks.  Autumn,  with  a 
many-hued  dress,  and  bearing  a  basket  of  ripened  grain 
and  luscious  grapes,  while  Winter,  with  robes  drawn 
tightly  around  him,  a  wreath  of  holly-berries  on  his  head, 
and  snow-flakes  thickly  strewn  over  his  attire,  was  well 
personated  by  Katie  Powers.  Even  this  simple  piece  had 
cost  Hope  some  thought,  time  and  trouble.  A  composition 
followed — an  entirely  original  one — having  for  its  subject 
"The  Horse."  Considering  that  the  author  had  not  known 
his  alphabet  at  the  beginning  of  the  session,  the  effort, 
though  a  crude,  was  certainly  a  creditable  one.  "  A  Little 
Boy's  Troubles"  were  next,  strikingly  told  bj^  Harry 
Ambler,  and  it  was  quite  amusing  to  the  audience.  Katie 
Tnrnnage  then  recited  "The  Voice  of  Spring"  verj'  cred- 


OR  hope's  first  school.  IGl 

itably.  Another  composition  followed  and  another  song, 
then  a  second  performance  by  the  amateur  musicians,  and 
afterwards  "The  Presidents  of  the  United  States"  in  verse 
was  repeated  in  unison  by  all  of  the  scholars.  "The 
World  for  Sale"  was  next  in  order,  James  Powers,  whom 
we  have  not  before  mentioned,  being  the  auctioneer.  Roy 
Wilkins  recited  "My  Funny  Uncle  Phil"  in  quite  an 
agreeable  way  ;  then  came  a  very  humorous  dialogue  enti- 
tled "The  Refractory  Scholar,"  provoking  i)eals  of  laughter 
from  the  audience.  Leola  Wilkins  next  told  "Mamie's 
Wants  and  Wishes"  in  sweet,  childish  tones,  which  elicited 
universal  admiration.  Ida  Hunter  recited  the  pathetic 
story  of  "Ginevra,"  and  Meta  Powers  "  Before  and  After 
Marriage ' '  in  quite  a  dramatic  manner.  ' '  Dare  to  Say  No, ' ' 
"The  Ten  Little  Grasshoppers,"  "Time  Enough  Yet," 
"Dimes  and  Dollars,"  "Boys'  Rights,"  and  other  short, 
pithy  pieces  were  repeated  by  other  pupils.  The  last  and 
best  performance  was  a  half  musical,  half  tableau  piece,  in 
which  the  Christian  Graces— Patience,  Faith,  Virtue,  Tem- 
perance, Knowledge,  Hope,  Experience,  Godliness,  Love 
and  Charity,  were  personated  by  ten  girls,  each  wearing  a 
shield  with  her  own  name  inscribed  ui:)on  it  in  gilt  letters. 
As  a  verse  explaining  the  scene  was  sung  Patience  entered, 
bearing  a  white  cross  upon  her  shoulders.  Then  Faith 
came  and  hung  a  wreath  on  one  arm  of  the  cross ;  next 
Virtue  placed  one  upon  the  other.  Temperance  then  twined 
lilies,  intermingled  with  evergreens,  about  the  body  of  the 
cross,  while  Knowledge  placed  a  basket  of  fruit  beneath. 
Hope,  with  her  anchor,  next  appeared  and  pointed  upward  ; 
then,  as  Patience  deposited  her  cross  upon  the  ground. 
Experience  came  and  assisted  her  in  holding  it.  Love  and 
Godliness  appeared  together.  Love  repeating  the  words, 
"Let  us  love  one  another;"  and  lastly,  Charity,  perso- 
nated by  Leola  Wilkins,  knelt  reverently  at  the  foot  of 
the  cross  ;  Experience  raising  her  up,  all  the  virtues  joined 


162  THEN   AND   NOW  ; 

hands  and  circled  around  it.     Then  all  sejDarated,  bearing 
Faith,  Hope  and  Charity  in  the  centre,  and  as  a  chorus  was 
sung  all  the  graces  left  the  stage.  Charity  going  last,  with 
the  cross  upon  her  shoulders.     It  was  a  lovely  scene,  and 
made  a  deep  impression  upon  the  spectators.     The  singing 
of  "The  Old  North  State"  terminated  the  entertainment, 
Mrs.  Ambler  playing  the  accompaniment  upon  the  organ. 
The  whole  exhibition  was  gratifying  to  the  teacher  and 
interesting  to  the  crowd  assembled  to  witness  it.     True, 
there  were  some  little  incidents  so  ludicrous  as  to  ];)rovoke 
a  good-humored  smile,  but  these  did  not  mar  the  effect  of 
the  whole.     Even  Tom  and  George  Simmons,  Josiah  and 
Sam  Liggins  and  Johnnie  Twining  acquitted  themselves 
wonderfully.     As  for  Mrs.  Simmons,  poor  old. lady,  when 
her  two,  sons  had  gotten  successfully  tlirough  their  speeches, 
and  had  read  their  compositions  correctly,  she  could  stand 
no  more.     The  weight  of  happiness  was  too  great  to  be 
borne,  and  she  sobbed  aloud.     Had  the  deceased  Mr.  Sim- 
mons'  prophecy  been  fulfilled,   and  her   two   boys  been 
elevated  to  the  presidential  chair,  she  could  not  have  been 
more  purely  happy.     Hope  was  amused,  yet  touched  ;  for 
a  ray  of  joy  penetrated  her  heart  to  think   that  under 
Heaven  she  had  been  the  means  of  gladdening  the  heart  of 
even  one  poor  old  ignorant  woman.     When   the  exercises 
were  concluded  she  felt  that  a  mountain  had  been  rolled 
from  her  shoulders,  and  as  friends  and  i^atrons  crowded 
around  congratulating  her  on  her  success  and  compliment- 
ing the  performance  of  the  pupils,  she  felt  repaid  for  her 
labor  in  their  behalf.     Rodney  and  Amelia  were  there,  and 
nothing  could  have  been  more  embarrassing  to  Hojie  than 
their  presence.     She  did  not  know  what  might  be  his  feel- 
ings for  her  now,  but  she  felt  sure  that  in  her  inmost  soul 
her  rival  was  exulting  in  the   thought  of  the  contrast 
between    their    conditions.     She,    Hope,   a  poor  country 
teacher,  and  Amelia  the  affianced  wife  of  a  rich  and  talented 


OR  hope's  first  school.  163 

man.  It  required  all  the  effort  of  a  strong  will  to  crush 
back  the  feeliuf^s  that  would  come  to  her,  despite  her  better 
judgment.  She  felt  that  she  ought  to  be  grateful,  but  she 
could  not  at  once  feel  so.  She  was  solicited  to  take  charge 
of  the  school  the  next  session,  but  she  could  not  bear  the 
thought  of  being  in  Rodney's  neighborhood,  and  so  would 
make  no  arrangement  in  regard  to  it.  Her  one  thought 
was  to  get  away  from  the  crowd,  who  were  enjoying  them- 
selves at  the  pleasant  picnic  dinner  brought  by  the  scholars, 
and  to  be  alone.  Her  intention  was  to  return  home  the  day 
after  the  exhibition  was  over,  if  possible  to  make  her 
arrangements  to  do  so.  Then  came  a  messenger  informing 
her  that  A^iolet  was  again  very  ill,  and  she  repaired  at  once 
to  Mrs.  Leonard's.  One  glance  at  her  little  favorite  con- 
vinced Hope  that  she  was  indeed  ill,  perhaps  more  so  than 
even  anyone  else  imagined.  There  was  a  sad,  weary  look 
on  the  little  face,  a  wistful  expression,  as  of  one  longing 
for  the  brightness  beyond.  The  same  lady  whom  Hope  had 
met  before  was  sitting  by  the  child,  and  for  three  days  and 
nights  the  two  and  Mrs.  Leonard  alternated  in  watching: 
over  the  little  one.  She  suffered  greatly  at  times,  but  at 
other  times  she  was  quiet  and  free  from  pain,  and  saying 
all  manner  of  quaint  things  provoked  a  smile,  even  though 
a  sad  one,  in  her  watchers.  Physicians  came  and  consulted 
together,  and  looked  puzzled  as  those  who  are  at  their  wit's 
ends,  and  then,  when  the  heart  was  growing  sick  with 
suspense,  they  broke  the  tidings  as  gently  as  they  could; 
"the  child  would  die,  perhaps  not  very  soon,  but  there  was 
no  hope."  Oh,  the  sadness  of  the  mother's  heart,  the 
unutterable  feeling  that  came  over  her  at  this  sentence ! 
Mr.  Leonard,  too,  seemed  much  grieved.  Violet,  little 
Violet,  so  like  the  flower  whose  name  she  bore  in  her  sweet 
modesty,  why  could  the  spoiler  not  overlook  thee  in  his 
hunt  after  victims  ?  Hope's  heart,  already  weighed  down 
by  sorrows  of  [its   own,   participated  in  the  grief  of  the 


164  THEN    AND    NOW  ; 

parents.  She  loved  the  child,  loved  her  deafly,  and  it  was 
a  terrible  rellection  to  feel  that  nevermore  would  she  see 
her  well  and  strong,  and  that  very  soon  she  must  die.  She 
was  ready  to  exclaim  with  the  Psalmist,  "All  thy  waves 
and  thy  billows  have  gone  over  me."  ''  I  will  never  have 
any  one  to  love,"  she  said,  repiningly  to  herself ;  "no  one 
but  mother,  and  perhaps  not  her  long.  Everything  I  love 
is  snatched  away  from  me.  I  cannot  see  that  it  makes  me 
better."  Then  she  reproached  herself  for  feeling  so,  and 
contrasted  her  condition  with  that  of  others  less  favored 
than  herself.  ' '  Think  even  of  Mrs.  Leonard,  with  a  husband 
who  is  wild  and  dissipated,  and  her  little  one  dying  !  How 
infinitely  sujjerior  is  my  condition  to  hers  !  "  There  were 
many  presents  of  hot-house  fruits  and  lovely  flowers  sent 
to  Violet  during  her  illness,  all  seeming  to  come  from  the 
same  source,  but  it  was  not  till  afterwards  that  Hope 
ascertained  who  sent  them.  Miss  Hunter  was  a  superior 
nurse.  Hope  was  not  deficient  in  that  respect,  yet  in  expe- 
rience and  touch  Miss  Hunter  surpassed  her.  The  days 
and  nights  dragged  their  slow  length  along,  Violet  at  times 
brightening  up  and  seeming  better,  at  other  times  worse, 
until  six  daj^s  had  elapsed,  and  with  agonizing  emotion 
parents  and  friends  felt  that  the  final  change  was  near  at 
hand.  She  was  very  patient,  speaking  sometimes  of  God 
and  Heaven  and  of  the  loved  ones  she  would  meet  there ; 
at  other  times  seeming  too  weary  to  wish  to  hear  anything, 
only  looking  sadly  and  fixedly  away.  Just  before  she 
died  she  was  free  from  all  pain  and  spoke  affectionately  to 
all,  but  none  told  her  that  she  was  dying,  and  the  sweet 
spirit  passed  into  everlasting  life  as  calmly  as  an  infant 
sinks  to  sleep.  With  tearful  eyes  Hope  and  Hiss  Hunter 
arranged  her  for  the  grave,  and  no  statue  of  marble  was 
ever  lovelier  than  the  dear  little  corpse  in  white  robes,  with 
pale  flowers  clasped  in  her  hands.  It  was  a  very  sad  day. 
Friends  came  and  went,    stealing  noiselessly  about  the 


OR  hope's  first  school.  165 

chamber  of.  death,  speaking  in  low  tones  and  stealthily 
turning  back  the  funeral  pall  to  gaze  on  the  sweet  dead 
features,  so  like  sculptured  marble  in  their  repose.  A 
smile  lay  on  the  perfect  face,  a  peaceful  smile,  almost  life- 
like in  expression.  Miss  Hunter  was  not  only  a  good 
nurse,  but  a  great  comfort  in  distress,  and  she  and  Hope 
spent  much  of  their  time  with  Mrs.  Leonard,  endeavoring 
by  sweetest  sympathj^  to  allay  her  grief.  She  was  not 
violent,  however.  There  was  a  tixed,  despairing  look  on 
her  face,  a  calmness  in  her  aspect,  which  was  far  different 
from  the  feelings  of  her  soul.  Ever  and  anon  she  stole  to 
the  side  of  her  darling,  placing  her  hand  upon  the  snowy 
brow,  imprinting  kiss  after  kiss  upon  it,  but  shedding  no 
tear,  only  sighing  as  though  her  heart  would  break.  Mr, 
Leonard  was  different.  His  lamentations  were  loud  and 
violent,  but  he  suffered  no  one  to  api^roach  him.  The  day 
of  the  funeral  the  house  was  crowded  with  visitors,  and 
Hope  could  but  reflect  on  the  levity  and  indifference  of  the 
majority  of  those  who  came  to  a  house  of  grief,  as  she 
noticed  how  cheerful  and  in  what  good  spirits  the  most  of 
them  seemed.  Mr.  Ransom  was  to  preach  the  funeral 
sermon.  His  text  was,  "  He  shall  gather  the  lambs  in  his 
arms  and  fold  them  in  his  bosom."  He  dwelt  feelingly 
and  pathetically  on  the  care  of  the  Great  Shepherd,  on  his 
anxiety  to  see  the  young  of  the  flock  safely  protected  from 
storm  and  danger,  on  his  foreknowledge  of  the  difficult 
paths  of  life  and  his  kindness  in  removing  them  from  a 
state  of  trial  to  the  blessedness  of  Heaven.  Much  more 
was  spoken  in  the  same  manner,  his  voice,  his  looks 
betraying  the  feelings  of  his  soul,  all  indicating  the  most 
profound  sym^Dathy  for  the  bereaved  ones.  There  was  a 
hymn  sung  in  which  Hoiie  could  not  join,  and  services 
over,  the  procession  was  formed  to  bear  away  the  dear 
little  body  of  Violet  to  the  famil}^  grave-yard  near  hy. 
Slowly  and  sadly  the  crowd  moved  on  to  the    spot  where 


166  THEN   AND   NOW  ; 

reposed  the  dead  ancestors  of  the  little  one.  It  was  a 
pleasant  place,  neatly  railed  in,  with  flowers  blooming  near 
the  graves  and  one  or  two  white  tombs  gleaming  through 
the  shrubbery,  with  cedar-trees  near,  in  whose  tojDS  the 
birds  sang  during  the  spring  days.  It  seemed  a  fitting 
place  for  the  little  one  to  sleep.  Hope  felt  glad  that  her 
favorite  would  be  left  amid  birds  and  flowers,  not  in  some 
deserted  burial-ground  ;  for  though  no  harm  could  come 
to  the  little  body,  yet  in  imagination  she  would  seem 
happier  than  amid  utter  desolation.  The  coffin  was  opened 
at  the  grave  for  all  to  look  for  the  last  time  on  the  little 
features  so  soon  to  be  consigned  to  the  dust.  Oh  !  that 
last  look!  how  different  from  all  others  I  what  a  feeling'Jof 
awe  it  inspires  in  the  heart !  Mr.  Leonard  knelt  by  the 
coffin  as  though  he  could  never  leave  it,  sobbing  convul- 
sivel}',  while  Mrs.  Leonard,  pale  as  marble,  stood  by  him 
uttering  not  a  sound — a  sad-eyed  Niobe.  At  length  the 
father  was  persuaded  away,  friends  and  acquaintances 
went  to  look  their  last  on  little  Violet,  the  coffin  was 
lowered  in  the  grave,  the  clods  fell  with  hollow  sound  upon 
it,  each  spadefull  of  earth  shutting  out  a  ray  of  hope 
from  the  heart  left  to  utter  gloom.  Oh!  the  unspeakable 
sadness  of  the  death-parting  !  how  strange  it  seems  that 
the  heart  should  ever  awake^to  happiness  after  such  a  sad 
realization  of  the  utter  emptiness  of  worldly  things  !  But 
so  it  is,  and  scarcely  is  the  earth  smoothed  over  the  grave 
of  some  acquaintance  ere  the  world  creeps  in  the  heart 
again,  the  gay  laugh  and  sportive  jest  resound  upon  the 
air  and  the  memory  of  the  dead  is  left  to  oblivion. 

Rodney  Gilbert  was  i:)resent  at  the  burial  and  returned 
to  the  house  with  the  funeral  procession.  Mr.  Watkins 
and  his  wife  were  there,  but  their' s  was  a  single  buggy  and 
would  be  crowded  with  three  in  it,  and  Hope  was  anxious 
to  return^ home,  as  Mrs.  Leonard's  sister  (who  had  just 
come   to  visit    her,    would    render    Hope's    longer    stay 


OR  hope's  first  school.  1G7 

unnecessary,  and  she  was  already  worn  out  with  fatigue 
and  loss  of  sleep.  It  was  no  more  than  polite  that  Rodney 
Gilbert  offered  Hope  a  seat  in  his  phaeton,  in  which  he  had 
come  alone,  j^et  she  felt  reluctant  to  accept  it.  A  dread 
stole  upon  her  which  she  was  at  a  loss  to  define.  Rodney 
had  never  been  sadder.  His  mind  seemed  to  dwell  on 
mournful  themes,  and  the  expression  of  his  countenance 
betrayed  the  mental  pain  which  was  with  him  always. 
After  awhile  he  said,  abruptly  : 

"Miss  Hope,  I  have  no  doubt  that  you  have  often 
thought  me  a  gloomy,  morose  man,  with  none  of  that 
brightness  which  is  so  charming  in  every  one,  but  bearing 
about  a  discontented  spirit  wdiere  it  seemed  that  I  should 
have  been  happy.  It  is  so  ;  the  gifts  which  others  i)rize  so 
highly  are  mine  ;  fortune,  health,  good  standing  in  society, 
friends,  or  at  least  those  who  appear  so,  a  good  education 
and  a  literary  turn,  besides  my  being  betrothed  to  one  of 
the  most  beautiful  girls  in  the  State.  (This  last  was  said 
with  a  bitter  smile.)  Yet  a  thousand  times  have  I  wished 
that  I  had  remained  as  poor  as  I  was  in  boyhood.  But 
let  me  tell  you  my  history.  My  father  was  a  farmer  in 
humble  circumstances,  and  I  the  pet  and  pride  of  his  life. 
What  ambitious  dreams  he  cherished  for  me,  poor  man  ! 
He  had  something  of  a  literary  turn,  and  took  great  pains 
in  instructing  me  at  home,  besides  giving  me  the  best 
advantages  that  the  country  schools  afforded,  which,  as  it 
chanced,  were  unusually  good  in  our  neighborhood.  I 
was  deemed  a  prodigy  at  school.  At  sixteen  years  of  age 
I  could  declaim  in  a  most  fluent  manner.  I  read  Latin  and 
French  with  ease  and  had  a  smattering  of  Greek.  About 
a  mile  from  us  lived  a  gentleman  whose  two  daughters 
attended  the  same  school,  and  for  a  mile  our  route  hiy 
together.  I  carried  their  books,  assisted  them  over  the 
creeks,  laughed,  talked  and  studied  with  them,  helped 
them  to  write  their  compositions,  gathered  spring  flowers 


168  NOW  AND  THEN  ; 

with  them,  until  the  two  seemed  as  near  as  sisters  to  me  ; 
and  Mary  Argyle  !  Oh  !  she  was  a  thousand  times  nearer  ! 
She  was  the  eldest  of  the  two,  a  lovely  girl,  bright  and 
intelligent,  with  sweet,  modest,  yet  free  and  easy  ways, 
which  completely  won  my  boyish  heart.  I  had  no  hopes, 
no  dreams  for  the  future,  with  which  she  was  not  entwined. 
While  at  school  I  spoke  not  to  her  of  love,  but  when  my 
father,  who  by  hard  labor  and  stinting  economy  had  saved 
money  enough  to  send  me  to  college  one  year,  told  me  of 
his  plans.  I  determined  to  tell  her  all  that  was  in  my 
heart.  June  roses  were  flinging  their  fragrance  on  the  air, 
the  leaves  were  dancing  in  the  breezes,  the  sunshine,  warm 
and  tender  as  my  love,  was  over  everything  when  I  told  her 
of  my  hopes  and  besought  her  to  become  my  wife  in  the 
future.  Oh,  what  plans  I  laid  for  that  future ;  how  I 
would  work  and  study  and  strive  and  delve  for  her  ;  of 
what  a  home  I  would  have  for  her,  and  how  happy  we 
would  be.  During  the  four  years  that  I  was  to  remain  at 
college  (for  my  father,  by  mortgaging  some  of  his  land, 
managed  to  keep  me  during  a  portion  of  the  time,  and  I 
taught  school  to  help  defray  expenses)  my  attachment  for 
Mary  knew  not  the  shadow  of  change.  When  I  was 
twenty  my  father  died,  and  just  then  a  distant  relative  left 
me  his  fortune.  There  was  no  necessity  for  me  to  drudge 
and  toil  now.  I  could  take  Mar}^  to  even  a  more  elegant 
home  than  the  one  I  had  pictured.  Yet  my  heart  was 
saddened  at  the  thought  of  my  poor  father  dying  just 
before  Fortune  had  begun  to  smile  upon  him.  I  returned 
home  a  graduate  from  one  of  the  best  colleges  in  our  State, 
with  a  determination  to  go  one  year  to  the  University  of 
Virginia,  then  to  marry  Mary  and  carry  her  with  me  to 
Philadelphia  during  the  time  that  I  studied  medicine  there, 
for  it  was  my  darling  object  to  become  a  good  physician. 
Judge  of  my  surprise,  ray  consternation,  my  horror,  on 
being  informed  by  my  mother  that  Mary  Argyle  was  no 


OR  iiope'«  first  school.  1G9 

fitting  wife  for  me  in  my  position.  I  am  a  believer  in 
obeying  the  Commandments,  the  one  with  promise  espe- 
cially. Yet  I  think  that  even  you  will  be  prepared  to 
excuse  me  when  I  tell  you  that  I  vowed  to  let  no  human 
being  stand  in  the  way  of  my  happiness — to  marry  Mary 
if  mother  never  spoke  to  me  afterwards.  But  I  met  with 
opxDOsition  where  I  was  not  prepared  for  it.  Mary's  father, 
on  learning  of  my  mother's  opposition,  forbade  her  to 
become  mine,  and  no  argument  nor  persuasion  could  induce 
her  to  disobey  her  father.  We  parted,  I  loving  her  more 
madly  than  ever,  and  with  a  heart  full  of  bitterness  for  all 
the  hollow  world.  I  became  moody,  irascible,  yet  withal 
a  hard  student,  sometimes  giving  freely  of  my  means  to 
others ;  at  other  times  grudging  even  a  kind  word.  I 
traveled  a  great  deal,  lived  for  self,  shut  out  my  heart  from 
all  kindly  influences  as  far  as  possible,  and  was  recklessly 
miserable.  Of  course,  being  a  wealthy  and  eligible  young 
man,  there  was  many  a  young  and  beautiful  girl  who  might 
have  been  mine  had  I  taken  the  pains  to  ask  her ;  but  I 
had  gotten  soured  against  all  but  the  one  whom  it  was 
useless  to  love.  In  two  years  after  we  parted  she  married 
h«r  present  husband,  Mr.  Leonard.  (Hope  started  in 
astonishment.)  She  has  not  led  a  happy  life,  poor  girl,  for 
he  is  not  the  man  to  make  a  woman  haj^py.  Little  Violet 
reminded  me  of  how  she  looked  in  the  old  school  days. 
But  to  continue :  Years  rolled  on,  Mary  was  married,  all 
hope  of  ever  claiming  her  for  mine  had  died  out  of  my 
heart.  I  was  weary  of  the  world,  weary  of  life,  weary  of 
everything,  when  Amelia  crossed  my  i^ath.  I  began  to 
think  that  perhaps  marriage  might  produce  some  change 
in  my  favor.  I  never  thought  to  love  again.  Amelia  was 
beautiful,  fascinating,  seemingly  amiable,  and  in  an  evil 
moment  I  proposed  to  her.  I  found  out  my  mistake  when 
too  late  to  retrieve  it ;  yet,  Hope,  you  know  the  skeleton  in 
my  closet,  the  Marah  in  my  heart.  Judge  me  kindly  in 
your  future  thoughts." 


170  NOW   AND    THEN 


? 


"I  am  sorry  for  you,  Mr.  Grilbert ;  yet  I  tliink  if  you 
will  try  to  make  the  best  of  life  it  will  be  brighter  to  you." 

They  were  at  Mr.  Watkins'  gate  now,  and  further  con- 
versation was  stopped  for  the  time,  as  Rodney  would  not 
accept  Mr.  Watkins'  invitation  to  go  in  the  house. 

"  As  sure  as  you  live,"  said  Mrs.  Watkins,  "Miss  Hoi^e 
and  Rodney  Gilbert  love  each  other,  and  why  they  can't 
make  up  their  minds  to  marry  is  a  mystery  to  me." 

"And  will  remain  so,"  said  Mr.  Watkins,  dryl}',  "since 
neither  one  seems  to  wear  their  heart  on  their  sleeve." 

It  had  been  Hope's  intention  to  return  home  immediately 
after  her  school  exhibition,  but  she  was  so  wearied  with 
her  watchings  at  little  Violet's  bedside  that  she  thought  it 
best  to  remain  a  few  days  longer  to  rest  ere  attempting  her 
homeward  journey.  Perhaps  there  was  another  reason  for 
this.  Who  can  willingly  leave  the  neighborhood  of  a 
beloved  object,  even  though  every  memory  of  the  loved 
one  is  a  pang  ?  So  unreasoning  a  passion  is  love.  And  yet 
Hope  said  to  herself  that  she  never  wished  to  see  Rodney 
Grilbert  again,  that  every  time  that  she  saw  him  she  was 
more  unhaj)py. 

A  young  doctor  with  jvhom  she  had  just  beconij 
acquainted  had  invited  her  to  accompany  him  to  church, 
and  she  wished  to  go  once  more  before  returning  home — 
once  more  to  the  church  where  Rodnev  had  carried  her, 
where  she  had  begun  to  think  of  him,  where  Herbert 
Ransom  had  preached  his  never-to-be-forgotten  sermon, 
and  life  had  seemed  so  bright  to  her.  The  landscape  was 
lovely  enough  to  her  this  morning,  her  escort  polite  and 
agreeable,  yet  everything  seemed  changed.  Her  spirit  had 
lost  its  brightness  and  elasticity,  sorrow  oppressed  her ; 
yet  none  would  have  guessed  it  who  looked  upon  her,  so 
full  of  life  and  gladness  did  she  seem.  Rodney  Gilbert 
was  at  church  ;  a  glance  at  the  crowd  before  the  door 
revealed  his  form  and  face,  but  Amelia  was  not  present. 


OR  HOPE'S  FIRST   SCHOOL.  171 

Like  one  in  dream,  Hope  listened  to  the  words  of  life, 
listened  with  a  yearning  to  be  benefited  by  them,  yet  with 
thoughts  straying  afar  off— "What  business  had  they  in 
such  a  place?"  Like  one  in  a  dream,  Rodney  Gilbert 
listened  with  a  feeling  in  his  heart  that  had  the  world  been 
different  with  him  he,  too,  might  have  been  a  better  man  ; 
that  even  now  a  happy  heart  would  make  him  a  purer  and 
more  useful  member  of  society.  Ah  !  we  speak  of  the 
ministry  of  sorrow,  and  truly  it  has  its  ministry ;  but  is 
not  joy  an  equally  powerful  agent  of  good?  Is  not  .sun- 
shine as  necessary  as  rain  ?  Yes,  we  honestly  believe  that 
there  is  many  an  aching  heart,  embittered  by  sadness  and 
neglect,  which,  under  different  influences,  might  have  been 
a  satisfied  and  happy  one.  receiving  and  diffusing  joy. 
Should  this  not  teach  us  to  strive  to  make  others  happy  ? 
Preaching  at  last  was  over,  and  Hope  descended  the  church 
steps.  She  saw  nothing  of  her  escort,  and  to  her  surprise 
Rodney  Gilbert  came  up  and  bade  her  good  morning, 
saying : 

"  Miss  Hope,  Dr.  Jones  was  called  off  to  see  a  very  sick 
patient  Just  after  services  began,  and  I  offered  to  carry  you 
home  in  his  place,  if  you  would  accept  of  my  services." 

She  said  "certainly  ;"  but  her  heart  beat  more  rapidly, 
and  the  blood  died  her  cheeks  crimson,  then  retreated, 
leaving  them  as  pale  as  ashes. 

"There  is  a  thunder-storm  coming  up,"  said  Rodney  ; 
"I  trust  we  maybe  able  to  get  to  your  home  before  it 
reaches  us." 

He  assisted  her  in  his  buggy  and  drove  off  rapidly,  for 
the  clouds  were  boiling  up  toward  the  zenith,  overshadow- 
ing the  crystal  heavens,  and  ominous  growls  of  thunder 
were  already  heard  in  the  distance,  with  ever  and  anon  a 
Hash  of  lightning.  There  was  little  said  by  either  ;  both 
were  too  intent  in  watching  the  gathering  storm,  which 
momentarily  became  blacker  and  blacker,  while  streaks  of 


172  THEN   AND   NOW  ; 

zigzag  lightning  tore  the  gloomj'^  clouds  asunder  and  was 
succeeded  by  the  most  terrific  thunder.  Hope  was  consti- 
tutionally brave,  3'et  she  cowered  a  little  amid  the  mad 
rage  of  the  elements.  The  pines,  swayed  by  the  wind, 
seemed  every  moment  just  ready  to  fall  upon  them  ;  the 
rain  f)oured  down  in  blinding  torrents,  and  all  nature 
seemed  suddenly  thrown  into  maddening  confusion.  There 
was  a  terrific  crash  as  the  lightning  struck  a  tree  near  by 
them  ;  the  frightened  horses  plunged  madly,  broke  from 
the  buggy  and  were  gone  ;  but  Hope  for  one  moment  was 
stunned,  unconscious  of  aught  that  had  befallen  them. 
When  she  became  conscious  she  was  in  Rodney's  arms  ; 
she  felt  his  kisses  on  her  brow,  heard  herself  called  sweet, 
endearing  names,  and  wished,  ah  !  how  vainly,  that  she 
could  die  just  then  !  But  she  struggled  to  free  herself,  and 
he  said : 

"Miss  Hope,  you  are  too  weak  to  walk  without  assist- 
ance ;  there  is  a  house  not  over  two  hundred  yards  from 
here  ;  if  we  can  manage  to  get  there  we  will  be  sheltered, 
at  least,  until  the  storm  is  over ;  and  I  can  then  procure 
some  way  to  see  you  home.  They  were  grotesque-looking 
objects  as  slowly  and  with  difficulty  through  the  pouring 
flood  they  made  their  way  to  Mr.  Wilson's  small,  but  com- 
fortable farm-house,  where  he  and  his  wife  lived  alone. 
Both  were  drenched  with  rain,  their  shoes  soaking  and 
muddy,  hair  disheveled,  and  they  looked  like  two 
outcasts ;  but  the  hospitable  farmer  bade  them  welcome, 
and  it  was  not  many  minutes  before  Rodney  and  Hope  were 
arrayed  in  dry  apparel  and  seated  before  a  comfortable  fire. 
Hope  looked  pretty  but  odd  in  Mrs.  Wilson's  old-time 
dress,  as  did  Rodney  in  Mr.  Wilson's,  and  both  laughed 
merrily  as  they  saw  each  other  for  the  first  time  after  their 
change  of  attire. 

"I  had  half  a  mind  to  put  on  one  of  the  old  lady's  caps," 
said  Hope. 

"I  wish  you  had,"  said  Rodney;  "I  would  like  to  see 


OR  hope's  first  school.  173 

the  effect  ;"  then,  lowering  his  voice,  "  Hoj)e,  I  am  glad 
of  this  storm  ;  we  will  be  together  a  few  hours,  at  any  rate, 
and  oh,  it  is  Heaven,  it  is  happiness  to  be  with  you,  even 
for  a  little  while.  They  were  quite  alone  ;  the  old  gentle- 
man and  lady  were  busy  drying  their  clothes,  and  Rodney 
took  advantage  of  their  absence. 

"  Hope,  darling,  there  is  no  use  in  a  man  plighting  vows 
at  the  altar  that  he  cannot  keep.  I  don't  love  Amelia,  I 
do  love  you  entirely,  perfectly.  Why  make  our  lives 
miserable,  when  they  might  be  so  happy  ?  Be  mine  ;  I 
cannot  live  without  you." 

"You  will  have  to,"  she  said,  quietly,  with  tears  in  her 
voice. 

He  knelt  before  her,  caught  her  hands  in  his  and 
exclaimed,  impetuously  : 

"Hope,  you  never  loved  me,  or  you  could  not  be  so 
cruel!" 

"  Mr.  Gilbert,  1  deemed  you  an  honorable  man— one  who 
would  not  forget  his  plighted  word  to  any  woman.  I 
admired  you  for  your  high  sense  of  honor  and  duty." 

"  Hope  I  "  he  exclaimed,  "look  in  my  eyes  and  tell  me, 
honestl}^,  if  you  were  engaged  to  a  gentleman  and  should 
lind  that  he  loved  another  woman  better,  would  you  not 
rather  release  him  from  his  troth  to  you  than  to  marry  him, 
knowing  that  his  heart  was  another's  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  she  replied,  "I  would  thank  him  for  telling  me 
the  truth,  yet  I  would  deem  him  false  and  fickle." 

"  As  Amelia  may  do  me,"  he  replied.  "  It  matters  but 
little  with  me  what  anyone  thinks  besides  yourself." 

"  And  what  will  your  mother  think  of  you,  Mr.  Gilbert  ? " 

"  Mother  !  Ah  !  Hope,  mother  wrecked  my  happiness 
once,  she  shall  not  do  it  again  without  just  cause,  dearly 
as  I  love  her.  If  you  were  mine  little  would  I  care  for 
what  the  world  thought.     You  are  my  w^orld." 

".Rodney,"  said  she,  sadly,  "it  cannot  be.     If  I  really 


174  NOW   AND    THEN  ; 

thought  you  could  never  tear  my  image  from  your  heart, 
that  your  life  would  be  wrecked  by  my  refusing  to  be  your 
wife,  I  might  agree  to  do  so ;  but  I  do  not  think  that. 
Three  months  ago,  before  my  ideas  of  duty  were  what  they 
were,  I  might  have  accepted  your  x)roposal ;  now  I  cannot ; 
we  must  live  apart/' 

"And  this  is  your  decision,   Hope?    Ah!  what  avails 

the  tenderest  affection,  the  most  idolatrous  love,  when  a 

^         woman  is  obdurate  \    My  hopes,   my  heart,  my  happiness 

for  this  life  are  gone  !     God  grant  in  mercy  that  my  span 

of  life  may  not  be  long  ! '" 

"You  talk  wildly,  Mr.  Gilbert;  with  your  means  you 
can  do  much  in  the  world.  If  you  really  love  me  will  you 
for  my  sake  use  them  for  the  good  of  others  ?'• 

"No,  Hope,  I  cannot  promise  you  this.  If  1  marry 
Amelia  I  know  she  wall  be  extravagant  and  I  shall  be  an 
indulgent,  if  not  a  loving,  husband.  She  shall  never  have 
cause  to  complain." 

What  made  Hope  love  Rodney  so  madly,  knowing  his 
faults  as  she  did  \  seeing  them,  but  as  though  she  did  not 
see  them.  Others  seemed  nobler  and  better  ;  for  was  not 
Rodney  weak,  even  in  his  love  for  her,  and  full  of  faults  ? 
Her  love  had  begun  in  sympathy  for  his  unhappiness, 
mingled  with  admiration  for  his  talent ;  it  had  been 
strengthened  by  the  singular  manner  in  which  their 
acquaintanceship  had  progressed,  and  now  his  entire 
devotion  to  her  had  sealed  her  fate.  She  felt  sure  that 
from  the  ashes  of  this  love  no  other  would  arise,  that  never 
again  would  the  star  of  love  rise  on  her  pathway.  Yet 
she  was  resolved  to  remain  as  she  was,  rather  than  tempt 
him  to  swerve  from  duty.  She  had  felt  how  bitter  it  is  to 
lose  confidence  in  a  beloved  object,  and  though  Amelia  had 
once  acted  a  false  part  by  her,  she  determined  to  return 
good  for  evil.  Notwithstanding  the  bitter  pang  of  parting 
with  Rodney,  there  was  a  sweet  consciousness  of  doing 


OE  hope's  fiest  school.  175 

right  in  her  heart,  which  helped  her  to  endure  the  pain 
more  bravely.  And  then,  in  some  respects,  it  was  not 
quite  so  bitter  as  to  be  jilted.  She  knew,  though,  that  all 
through  the  coming  years  there  would  be  haunting  memo- 
ries of  Rodney  ;  that  his  every  tender  word  and  tone  would 
come  to  her  recollection  again  and  again  ;  that  the  sad 
thought  of  "what  might  have  been"  would  embitter  all 
her  future  years.  The  short  summer  evening,  made  shorter 
by  the  gloom  of  the  tempest,  came  to  a  close  all  too  quickly 
for  the  lovers,  who,  though  miserable  together,  were  still 
loth  to  see  the  time  pass  b}^  bringing  around  the  inevitable 
hour  of  parting. 

The  next  morning  the  earth  was  brighter  than  ever,  and 
after  bidding  adieu  to  Mr.  Wilson  and  his  wife  and  thank- 
ing them  for  their  generous  hosxntality,  Rodney  and  Hope 
rode  to  Mrs.  Watkins'  in  Mr.  Wilson's  buggy,  drawn  by 
one  of  his  horses.  Hope  was  destined  to  listen  to  plead- 
ings that  she  found  it  almost  impossible  to  resist,  and  sorry 
as  she  was  to  part  with  Rodney,  she  was  glad  when  she 
reached  Mr.  Watkins'.  They  parted  "forever,"  thought 
she  to  herself,  as  she  watched  him  ride  away.  She  locked 
her  door,  sank  into  a  chair  and  gave  vent  to  a  flood  of 
bitter  tears.  What,  after  all,  if  she  had  done  wrong  ? 
What  if  she  might  have  been  destined  to  be  the  guiding 
star  of  Rodney's  life  to  lead  him  to  a  brighter  and 
better  future  "i 

"No,  no;  I  cannot  'do  evil  that  good  may  come.'  It 
would  be  wrong  in  me  to  tempt  Rodney  to  break  his 
plighted  troth.  I  must  do  right  if  it  destroys  my  happi- 
ness." 

Through  the  long,  restless  night  she  did  not  sleep,  and 
when  morning  dawned  she  arose  with  a  weight  of  sorrow 
on  her  heart  and  a  sad  look  in  the  dark  eyes.  And  with 
gloomy  feelings  she  began  her  preparations  for  the  home- 
Dvard  trip. 


176  THEN    AND    NOW  ; 


CHAPTER  XYII. 


"A  buggy  is  at  the  gate,  papa/'  said  little  Willie 
Watkins.  "There  are  two  ladies  in  it,  I  think  Mrs. 
Leonard  is  one  of  them." 

He  was  correct  in  his  supposition.  Mrs.  Leonard  and 
Miss  Hunter  w^re  the  visitors.  The  former  lady  was  in 
deep  mourning  for  her  child.  Her  sable  garments  were 
extremely  becoming  to  her,  though  it  seemed  to  Hope  that 
she  had  lost  both  Hesh  and  color  since  the  first  time  that 
she  saw  her.  She  greeted  Mrs.  Watkins  and  our  heroine 
most  affectionately,  and  seemed  more  cheerful  than  might 
have  been  expected  under  the  circumstances. 

"  Her  husband  had  gone  off  on  a  trip  to  Charlotte,"  she 
said,  "  and  had  taken  her  little  son  with  him.  Miss  Hunter 
had  agreed  to  stay  with  her  during  his  absence,  and  they 
both  thought  it  a  good  time  to  visit  Mrs.  Watkins,  as  they 
wished  to  see  Miss  Caldwell  before  her  departure  from  the 
neighborhood." 

Hoi^e  thanked  them  for  their  thoughtf  ulness,  and  assured 
them  that  she  appreciated  their  visit  very  much.  During 
the  long  hours  of  the  forenoon  conversation  did  not  flag, 
but  all  seemed  anxious  that  it  should  turn  as  little  as 
liossible  on  that  which  was  still  the  subject  of  all  their 
thoughts— the  deatli  of  little  Violet.  But  once  did  Mrs. 
Leonard  speak  particularly  of  her. 

"  I  will  never  cease  to  be  grateful  to  you.  Miss  Hope,  for 
your  kindness  to  my  little  one.  She  loved  you  dearl}^,  and 
her  memorj'  will  ever  be  inseparably  connected  with  j^our- 
self  in  my  heart.  I  could  not  now  bear  the  thought  of  her 
having  been  roughly  dealt  with,  and  thank  God,  as  much 
as  I  miss  her,  I  have  one  comforting  reflection — she  can 
never  undergo  the  trials  of  this  life — its  heart-aches  and 
pangs  ;  she  is  sheltered  from  them  forever." 


OR  hope's  first  school.  177 

Hope  was  too  choked  up  with  emotion  to  answer  save 
with  tears,  and  conversation  drifted  off  to  other  subjects. 
Rodney  Gilbert's  name  was  spoken  once  in  connection  with 
his  attention  to  Miss  Montcalm. 

"Rodney  is  an  old  friend  of  mine,"  remarked  Mrs. 
Leonard,  so  calmly  and  coldly  that  Hope  wondered  if  love 
could  sometimes  die  a  natural  death.  "We  were  school- 
mates, and  he  seemed  a  very  promising  young  man  ;  but 
of  late  his  whole  nature  appears  to  be  changed,  with  the 
exception  of  his  generosity.  He  can  never  be  otherwise 
than  generous.  I  will  always  remember  his  kindness  to 
us  during  Violet's  illness,  for  I  know  it  was  he  who  sent 
her  so  many  i^resents.  I  trust  that  if  he  marries  it  may 
have  a  good  effect  upon  him — may  sweeten  a  nature  that 
was  originally  good,  but  is  now  from  some  cause  embit- 
tered." 

Hope  gazed  at  Mrs.  Leonard  in  astonishment.  How 
could  she  bear  to  speak  thus  of  one  to  whom  she  had  once 
plighted  her  troth,  whom  in  all  probability  she  had  fondly 
loved  ?  Could  it  be  that  his  memory  had  faded  out  of  her 
heart  entirely,  and  did  Mr.  Leonard  now  really  occupy  the 
niche  once  filled  by  him  ?  It  was  an  enigma  to  her  :  she 
could  not  puzzle  it  out.  It  seemed  to  her  that  a  thousand 
years  hence  she  would  not  wish  to  say  much  of  Rodney  in 
the  presence  of  company.  His  memory  was  so  sacred,  and 
she  felt,  too,  so  guilty  of  loving  him  but  too  tenderly,  that 
she  could  not  bear  to  call  his  name,  unless  absolutely 
necessary  to  do  so.  After  all,  she  reflected,  different 
dispositions  differ  so  widely  that  one  cannot  judge  for 
another. 

"  You  will  not  take  another  school  here,  I  suj^pose  ?  " 
said  Mrs.  Leonard  to  her,  after  a  brief  lull  in  the  conver- 
sation. 

"No  ma'am,  I  hardly  think  I  shall.  It  is  quite  i^robable 
that  I  will  never  tedch  in  the  country  again.     I  wish  to  go 


178  THEN   AND   NOW  ; 

somewhere  that  I  can  pursue  my  own  studies  to  advan- 
tage while  I  am  instructing  others.  You  know  how  hard 
it  is  to  do  that  in  the  country  ?" 

"  Yes,  indeed,"  she  and  Miss  Hunter  remarked  at  once  ; 
then  the  latter  continued  : 

"I  know  all  about  a  country  teacher's  life  and  will  give 
you  my  whole  history  sometime,  if  you  desire  it?" 

"  That  I  do,"  replied  Hope ;  "but  you  will  have  to  do  so 
to-day  or  to-morrow,  for  I  start  home  the  day  after." 

"Miss  Hope  is  an  artist,"  said  Mrs.  Watkins  ;  "you 
should  see  some  of  her  drawings  and  paintings  before  she 
packs  them  up." 

Accordingly,  the  next  hour  was  occupied  in  looking  at 
Hope's  treasured  sketches — the  work  of  her  leisure  hours. 
There  were  no  master  pieces  among  them,  yet  all  indicated 
talent,  all  were  above  ordinary.  The  ladies  were  lavish  in 
their  praise  of  them. 

"  I  tell  Miss  Hope,"  said  Mrs.  Watkins,  "that  she  has 
no  business  to  teach  school  at  all  with  such  talent  as  she 
possesses,  although  I  consider  her  a  capital  teacher  too." 

"Believe  me,"  replied  Hope,  "that  I  consider  a  good 
teacher  of  more  practical  value  than  a  fine  artist ;  but  I  fall 
as  far  short  of  my  standard  of  teaching  as  of  drawing  or 
painting.  I  really  think  that  to  be  an  efficient  teacher 
requires  such  a  combination  of  qualities  as  is  seldom  found 
in  one  person.  Just  think  of  it !  A  good  teacher  (I  speak 
in  the  feminine  gender)  must  be  intelligent  herself,  and 
must  also  have  the  tact  of  imparting  knowledge  to  others. 
She  must  be  firm,  yet  mild,  patient,  yet  not  yielding ;  must 
also  be  attractive  to  the  pupils  by  a  certain  winsomeness 
of  manner,  which  even  the  best  of  people  do  not  alwaj^s 
possess.  She  must  be  systematic  and  neat,  and  must  set  a 
good  example  in  every  respect  to  her  pupils.  She  is  their 
pattern  in  morals,  in  religion,  in  manners,  in  dress,  in  every 
respect.     And  when,  by  the  most  untiring  industrj^  she 


OR  hope's  first  school.  179 

has  managed  to  instil  not  only  learninj^  in  the  he<ads,  but 
principles  of  right,  of  justice  and  of  truth  in  the  hearts  of 
those  entrusted  to  her  charge,  she  must  still  be  prepared 
to  endure  fault-finding  and  complaint  from  those  who, 
having  never  themselves  taught,  are  utterly  incapable  of 
appreciating  the  difficulties  which  beset  a  teacher.  Even 
the  intelligent  patrons  of  a  school  (though  this  has  not 
been  my  experience)  may  sometimes  unnecessarily  wound 
the  feelings  of  a  faithful,  conscientious  teacher,  by  thought- 
less comments  on  her  faults,  as  if  anyone  was  destitute  of 
them.  So  that  I  can  truly  exclaim,  when  I  think  of  all 
this,    "  '  Who  is  sufficient  for  these  things  V  " 

"  You  are  right,  Miss  Hope,"  replied  her  companion  ;  "  1 
have  taught  for  twelve  years,  and  under  almost  every 
variety  of  circumstances,  and  I  can  say  with  truth,  that  not 
yet  have  I  attained  to  my  standard  of  a  teacher." 

"And  has  all  of  your  work  been  in  the  country;!" 
inquired  Hope. 

"  Yes,  all  of  it.  I  may  be  almost  silly  in  my  attachment 
to  the  country,  but  while  I  could,  in  some  resi^ects,  have 
enjoyed  much  greater  advantages  in  the  city,  I  could  never 
relinquish  the  pleasures  of  a  country  life.  The  fresh  air, 
the  rural  scenes,  the  songs  of  birds,  the  wild  fiowers  grow- 
ing along  my  path,  the  grand  old  woods,  where  I  delight 
to  rove— all  of  the  beauties  of  nature  to  be  enjoyed  "with- 
out money  and  without  price,"  are  inexpressibly  dear  to 
me.  So  I  have  remained  year  after  year,  teaching  first  in 
one  neighborhood,  then  in  another,  spending  the  best  years 
of  my  life  in  the  narrow  routine  of  the  school-room,  and 
earning  just  enough  money  to  kee]3  me  up  respectably." 

"Why,"  inquired  Hope,  "did  you  not  remain  in  one 
place?  It  seems  to  me  that  it  would  be  much  more 
agreeable." 

"  It  certainly  would,  but  it  does  not  fall  to  the  lot  of  the 
majority  of  teachers  to  stay  in  the  same  place  for  a  long 


180  NOW   AND   THEN  ; 

time.  Human  nature  craves  a  clianjsje.  After  a  lapse  of 
years  some  one  is  sure  to  find  fault,  and  in  such  a  case, 
though  many  of  your  patrons  may  like  you.  yet  the 
disaffection  of  some,  like  the  '  dead  tiy  in  the  pot  of  oint- 
ment,' will  render  your  life  so  unpleasant  that  you  will 
gladly  seek  'fresh  fields  and  pastures  new.'  Still  my  life 
has  not  been  one  of  constant  change.  I  once  taught  three 
years  at  a  place  where  I  intended  to  establish  a  permanent 
school.  To  this  end  I  worked  hard.  I  spared  neither  time 
nor  pains  to  accomplish  it.  I  am  not  perfect,  I  know,  yet 
lack  of  energy  in  the  school-room  is  not  one  of  my  faults. 
I  was  unsuccessful.  Some  of  my  patrons  clung  to  me  and 
were  never  weary  of  sounding  my  praises  ;  but  I  gained 
the  ill-will  of  others  ;  and  some  other  circumstances  acting 
against  me,  I  resigned  all  thoughts  of  ever  teaching  long 
in  one  place.  I  have  oftentimes  seen  the  words  of  the 
Saviour  fulfilled  :  '  Ye  have  labored  and  other  men  have 
entered  into  your  labors.'  It  is  hard  to  toil  and  see  others 
eat  the  fruit  of  your  work,  to  run  and  see  others  wear  j^our 
crown  ;  yet  this  is  often  the  lot  of  a  country  teacher.  AVhen 
a  young  man  or  young  lady  graduates  at  some  noted 
college  who  thinks  of  the  seed  sown  in  the  old  country 
school-house?  No,  all  of  the  credit  is  apjt  to  be  awarded 
to  those  who  put  on  the  cap-stone  of  the  educational 
edifice  ;  all  of  the  praise  is  given  to  those  who  '  put  on  the 
finishing-touch.'  In  this,  as  in  other  things,  I  believe  in 
justice  being  done  to  all  parties.  I  think  that  all  should 
share  and  share  rightfully  in  the  praise.'' 

"I  am  afraid,"  said  Hope,  laughiu^ly,  '' that  could  all 
3^oung  teachers  hear  you  talk  there  would  be  a  sad  lack  of 
instruction,  more  especially  in  the  country." 

"  No  danger  of  that,"  replied  Miss  Hunter  ;  "necessity, 
the  grand  lever  which  moves  nearly  all  the  world  to  labor, 
will  ever  fill  the  ranks  of  the  teacher's  array,  and  once 
there,  ambition  will  impel  many  of  them  to  strive  to  attain 


OR  nOPE's   FIRST   SCHOOL.  381 

to  a  high  standard  of  teaching.  Then,  some  look  to  a 
higher  source  for  a  reward  of  their  labor.  A  faithful,  con- 
scientious nature  will  fill  up  the  measure  of  its  duty, 
whether  the  world  approves  or  blames." 

''  Are  you  an  orphan.  Miss  Hunter  V  inquired  her  com- 
panion. They  were  alone  now,  Mrs.  Watkins  and  Mrs. 
Leonard  having  gone  out  in  the  flower-yard. 

'•  Yes,  I  have  been  an  orphan  since  my  seventeenth  year. 
My  father  and  mother  were  both  killed  by  an  accident  on 
the  railroad,  and  I  had  no  one  else  to  look  to  for  assistance. 
Luckily  for  me,  I  was  sufficiently  well  educated  to  teach, 
and  from  my  youth  the  duties  and  responsibilities  of  the 
school-room  have  been  mine.  I  grow  very  weary  some- 
times, the  more  so  when  I  think  that  it  is  more  than 
probable  that  I  will  spend  the  rest  of  my  life  as  a  teacher, 
yet  1  see  so  much  that  is  disagreeable  in  every  calling  that 
I  have  learned  to  be  reconciled  to  my  lot.  The  greatest 
trial  I  have  is  that  I  really  have  no  home.  Boarding,  as  I 
do,  I  meet  with  much  kindness.  I  make  many  friends, 
the  children  are  almost  always  fond  of  me  ;  yet,  after  all, 
I  have  no  permanent  abiding  place.  I  spend  my  vacation 
among  my  numerous  friends  and  acquaintances,  by  whom 
I  am  always  cordiallyvvelcomed ;  yet,  after  all,  I  realize 
the  truth  of  the  words,    'There  is  no  place  like  home.'  " 

Curiosity  and  the  deep  interest  which  she  felt  in  her  new 
friend  impelled  Hope  to  inquire  : 

"Do  you  never  intend  to  marry.  Miss  Hunter  i!  You 
might  then  have  a  home,  perhaps  a  very  happy  one." 

She  was  sorry  a  moment  after  that  she  had  asked  the 
question.  A  vivid  blush  stole  over  Miss  Hunter's  pale 
cheek ;  she  seemed  embarrassed,  yet  answered  unhesi- 
tatingly : 

"Not  unless  I  can  marry  my  ideal.  I  would  no  sooner 
marry  now  for  a  home  nor  for  convenience  than  when  I  was 
just  sixteen  years  old.    Love  and  that  alone  will  ever  tempt 


182  TlIElSr    AND   NOW  ; 

me  to  surrender  my  freedom,  as  poor  a  freedom  as  it  is.  I 
have  loved  but  once  in  my  life,  and  have  long  since  fiang 
away  even  the  very  memory  of  my  idol,  and  have  devoted 
myself  entirely  to  the  duties  of  my  calling,  and  though  I 
have  trials  and  difficulties,  and  am  destitute  of  a  home,  yet 
I  see  many  married  ladies  with  whom  I  would  not  exchange 
places.  Believe  me,  that  the  silly  fear  of  becoming  an  old 
maid  has  entailed  a  life-time  of  misery  on  many  a  woman, 
for  "married  and  not  mated"  is  the  worst  life  in  the 
world." 

"  Yes,"  resjxjnded  Hope  ;  '  to  marry  in  haste  and  rej)eht 
at  leisure,'  is  worse  than  not  to  marry  at  all." 

"I  think.  Miss  Caldwell,  that  I  might  ask  with  more 
propriety  why  you  do  not  marry  ?  It  is  rumored  that 
three  of  the  most  eligible  young  men  around  here  have 
been,  or  are  now,  paying  their  addresses  to  you." 

It  was  now  Hope's  turn  to  be  embarrassed  : 

"That  is  a  mistake,  Miss  Hunter;  the  young  men  who 
come  here  do  so  through  courtesy,  not  through  personal 
preference  to  me." 

"Well,  of  course  it  is  none  of  my  business,  but  should 
Mr.  Ransom  ever  address  you  I  would  say  that  no  woman 
could  do  better  than  to  marry  him,  for  he  is  almost 
perfection." 

"  I  can't  bear  your  perfect  beings,"  replied  Hope,  impet- 
uously. "I  would  sooner  love  one  nearer  like  myself, 
even  though  full  of  faults;  yet,"  she  rejoined,  "I  do  like 
Mr.  Ransom.     He  is  one  of  my  best  friends." 

"I  can't  think,  then,  w^hy  you  discarded  Mr.  Gilbert," 
said  Miss  Hunter,  mercilessly,  though  in  a  laughing 
manner;  "for  that,  too,  is  the  report ;  surely  he  has  ftiults 
enough." 

A  hot  Hush  mounted  to  Hope's  very  temples:  "Who 
could  have  started  such  a  report'^  Could  Rodney  have 
purposely  left  people  under  that  impression  merely  to 


OR  hope's  first  school.  183 

shield  her  from  the  sneers  of  the  world — merely  to  prevent 
the  impression  that  she  was  jilted  by  him  \  "  She  believed 
this  to  be  the  case,  and  felt  a  thrill  of  gratitude  warm  her 
heart  at  the  thought.  The  idea  of  either  of  the  other 
gentlemen  loving  her  seemed  preposterous.  As  secluded 
as  had  been  her  former  life,  Hope  Caldwell  was  not  a 
woman  who  viewed  ever}'  casual  attention  of  a  gentleman 
in  a  serious  light,  and  it  seemed  too  ridiculous  for  a 
moment's  thought  to  regard  Herbert  Ransom  or  Daniel 
Young  as  lovers.  It  seemed  very  singular  to  her  that  on 
several  occasions  people  had  given  her  advice  in  regard  to 
the  young  minister,  when  in  truth  he  had  never  sought  to 
win  her  affections— had  been  kind  and  pleasant,  without 
even  pretending  to  cherish  more  than  friendly  regard  for 
her.  She  looked  upon  Mr.  Ransom  as  a  very  dear  friend  ; 
she  regarded  him  as  a  man  of  superior  piety  and  intelli- 
gence, but  never  for  a  moment  had  she  even  dreamed  of 
the  possibility  of  love  between  him  and  herself.  Miss 
Hunter's  words,  she  thought,  had  shown  her  how  far 
gossip  and  the  imagination  of  one's  "dear  live  hundred 
friends"  can  transcend  the  bounds  of  truth.  It  did  not 
once  occur  to  her,  as  it  might  have  done  to  other  and  vainer 
girls,  that  after  all  perhaps  Herbert  Ransom  did  love  her, 
and  was  only  withheld  from  addressing  her  by  the  belief 
that  his  suit  would  be  rejected.  This  belief  would  have 
just  now  been  quite  correct,  for  their  many  rides  and  walks 
and  talks  had  revealed  to  the  young  minister  a  disposition 
so  noble  and  pure  that  he  had  at  last  fallen  more  in  love 
than  he  had  any  idea  of  doing,  though  still  without  any 
thought  of  declaring  himself  to  the  object  of  his  regard. 
He  felt  persuaded  that  Rodney  Gilbert  filled  the  highest 
niche  in  her  heart,  and  he  was  unwilling  to  take  a  secon- 
dary jjlace.  So,  all  unconsciously  to  herself,  she  had  won 
the  affections  of  Herbert  Ransom.  In  her  perfect  igno- 
rance in  regard   to  his  real  feelings  for  her,  she  disliked 


184  THEN   AND   NOW 


} 


very  much  to  be  teased  about  him,  and  tried  to  change  the 
subject  of  conversation.  Luckily  for  her,  Miss  Hunter's 
thoughts  seemed  to  dwell  more  on  school  and  on  school 
life  than  on  love  or  marriage.  She  entertained  Hope  by 
relating  to  her  several  little  amusing  episodes  in  her  school 
life.  She  gave  a  humorous  description  of  the  stampede 
which  took  place  in  her  school-room  on  one  occasion,  when 
a  large  but  harmless  snake  was  discovered  coiled  just 
above  her  head  in  the  unceiled  house. 

"The  children,"  she  said,  "as  well  as  myself,  were 
awfully  frightened,  until  some  of  the  bravest  of  the  boys 
managed  to  get  him  down  and  kill  him  with  a  stick.  When 
I  noticed  that  it  was  a  harmless  species  of  snake  I  felt  half 
regretful  that  I  had  permitted  its  destruction,  yet  so  great 
is  my  horror  of  them  that  I  believe  it  would  throw  me  into 
a  spasm  should  one  accidentally  fall  upon  me,  even  for  a 
moment.  At  one  place  where  I  taught  I  used  to  amuse 
myself  by  watching  the  lizards,  which  crej)t  in  the  house 
through  crevices  between  the  logs.  I  enjoyed  seeing  them 
catch  flies.  Then  there  was  a  bird  which  had  built  her  nest 
on  the  inside  of  the  roof,  and  I  used  to  take  pleasure  in 
looking  at  her  fly  backwards  and  forwards  to  feed  her  little 
brood.  And  when  the  young  birds  were  old  enough  to  fly 
didn't  the  children  feel  interested  in  them  !  I  could  not 
find  it  in  my  heart  to  allow  them  to  be  disturbed.  It  is  my 
nature  to  love  all  harmless  little  animals,  so  that  it  was  a 
pleasure  to  have  them  around  me.  However,  I  object  to 
such  a  very  open  school-house  in  the  winter.  The  health 
is  endangered  by  draughts  of  air  pouring  in  on  teacher  and 
pupils  while  thej^  are  sitting  quite  still,  and  more  particu- 
larly if  they  are  accustomed  to  snug,  warm  quarters  at 
home.  The  change  may  produce  sickness,  if  not  death,  in 
some  cases.  Yet  all  this  discomfort,  which  is  the  result, 
not  of  selfishness,  stinginess  or  meanness,  but  of  pure 
neglect,  might  be  remedied  by  the  expenditure  of  a  little 


OR  hope's  first  school.  185 

money  and  a  few  hour's  work.  In  regard  to  water,  there 
is  sometimes  a  similar  thoughtlessness.  Sometimes  the 
curbing  of  a  well  is  decayed  and  needs  to  be  replaced  by  a 
new  one,  or  a  well  or  spring  is  wofully  in  need  of  being 
cleaned  out,  but  it  is  put  off  from  day  to  day,  and  pupils 
and  teachers  have  to  drink  bad  water  in  consequence,  and 
perhaps  are  made  sick.  Patrons,  as  a  rule,  do  not  visit  the 
school-room  very  often.  They  seem  to  be  contented  if  the 
children  appear  to  be  learning  well,  and  do  not  inquire  into 
all  such  little  matters.  Instructors  dislike  to  find  fault, 
more  especially  ladies,  and  the  more' intelligent  and  refined 
they  are,  the  more  is  this  liable  to  be  the  case,  and  seldom 
complain  of  any  existing  evil  of  this  kind  more  than  once 
or  twice.  If  it  is  not  remedied  after  that,  they  struggle  on, 
putting. up  with  inconveniences  until  the  session  is  out. 
And  yet  the  patrons  of  their  school  are  perhaps  just  as 
kind- hearted,  industrious,  pleasant  and  clever  people  as 
one  can  find.  This  fault  is  but  a  'little  one,'  yet  it  may 
cause  most  disastrous  consequences.  Just  think  of  the 
trouble  and  expense  that  one  single  spell  of  sickness  occa- 
sions, and  it  really  seems  incredible  that  people  should  not 
look  out  for  their  own  health  and  that  of  their  families  in 
every  possible  way.  Proper  ventilation,  but  no  draughts 
of  air,  a  room  sufficiently  warmed  and  lighted,  good,  pure 
water,  and  a  plenty  of  exercise  out  of  doors,  I  regard  as 
absolutely  necessary  to  the  health  of  pupils.  Besides,  I 
always  notice  to  see  that  mine  do  not  sit  still  with  wet  feet, 
as  many  children  are  apt  to  do.  As  a  large,  open  fire-place 
generally  falls  to  my  lot  at  my  school-house,  I  make  them 
stay  by  that  until  their  shoes  are  dried.  Perhaps  I  am  too 
careful,  but  I  hold  that  a  teacher  is  to  some  extent  answer- 
able for  the  manner,  morals,  health  and  learning  of  the 
scholars  during  the  time  which  they  are  entrusted  to  his 
or  her  charge/' 


186  THEN    AND    NOW 


"I  think  so,"  said  Hope;  "but  I  do  not  believe  that 
all  teachers  feel  this  way.  No  indeed  !  Some  care  only  for 
the  money  which  they  expect  to  get  at  the  termination  of 
the  school.  I  do  not  say  'earn,'  for  they  do  not  earn  it. 
No  matter  what  may  be  the  disadvantages  which  surround 
teachers,  no  matter  if  they  are  unknown  and  unappre- 
ciated, it  is  no  less  their  duty  to  strive  faithfully  for  the 
improvement  of  their  scholars.  Nothing  can  excuse  them 
for  neglecting  their  duties," 

"  I  agree  with  you,"  replied  her  companion,  "  I  think  it 
right  to  do  the  best  we  can,  no  matter  under  what  circum- 
stances we  may  be  placed." 

"  Well,"  said  Miss  Hunter,  "I  frankly  own  to  you  that 
my  path  is  now  a  thorny  one.  I  do  not  say  that  no  ray  of 
light  penetrates  the  gloom,  or  anything  of  that  kind.  I  am 
not  miserable  ;  yet  I  have  passed  the  hey-day  of  my  youth, 
its  gorgeous  visions  have  lied,  I  am  homeless  and  poor.  I 
■  am  not  even  blessed  with  good,  strong  health.  I  cannot  be 
happy  as  the  world  looks  at  happiness,  yet  I  try  to  be 
content.  I  regard  mine  as  a  lofty  mission.  Next  to  parents, 
no  one  has  a  stronger  inlluence  over  a  child  than  a  teacher. 
No  profession  has  a  wider  sphere  in  its  ultimate  effects. 
Great  and  noble  men  and  women  can  often  recall  their 
instructors  to  mind  with  sincerest  gratitude.  Some  of  the 
wisest  and  best  of  men  in  ancient  days  were  teachers.  I 
am  proud  of  my  profession,  yet  am  fearful  of  disgracing 
it.  Oh !  could  we  realize  what  a  charge  is  ours  I  The 
minds  and  hearts  of  those  who  as  yet  have  their  characters 
unformed  put  into  our  hands  as  clay  in  the  hands  of  the 
sculptor,  to  be  moulded  by  us.  Yet  comparatively  few 
instructors  realize  it.  A  great  many  persons  teach  as  a 
step  to  some  other  x>rofession,  some  for  money,  others 
because  solicited  to  do  so,  and  not  wishing  to  refuse ;  but 
how  few  because  they  love  to  teach  ?  I  think  the  very  best 
of  teachers  love  children.     They  can  enter  into  their  feel- 


OR  hope's  first  school.  187 

ings,  can  sympathize  with  their  griefs,  can  even  join  their 
little  sports,  and  children  love  and  obey  them  all  the  better, 
provided  a  teacher  understands  the  secret  of  gaining  the 
affections  of  the  little  ones,  and  at  the  same  time  of  losing 
none  of  their  respect.  Some  of  the  greatest  of  men  loved 
children  dearly,  and  were  delighted  to  share  their  innocent 
games,  and  our  Saviour,  with  the  shadow  of  death  hanging 
over  his  devoted  head,  could  yet  lay  aside  all  selfish 
thoughts  and  feelings  '  to  take  young  children  in  his  arms 
and  bless  them.'  But,  Miss  Hope,  excuse  me  ;  I  have  said 
too  much.  Our  conversation  has  certainly  been  a  singular 
one  for  two  ladies.  You  know  single  ladies,  unless  they 
belong  to  the  'strong  minded'  order,  are  thought  to  talk 
about  very  little  beside  dress  and  beaux.  I  am  not  '  strong 
minded,'  yet  my  thoughts  seem  to  run  too  much  on  my 
calling,  and  you,  too,  being  a  teacher,  I  have  been  betrayed 
into  making  quite  a  little  speech." 

"AVell,"  replied  Hoj^e,  "your  one  auditor  has  certainly 
paid  good  attention  and  been  much  edified.  I  trust  it  will 
help  me  if  ever  I  teach  again." 

Mrs.  Leonard  and  Mrs.  Watkins  now  entered,  bearing 
bouquets  of  lovely  flowers,  and  the  former  lady  informed 
Miss  Hunter  that  it  was  about  to  time  go,  as  Mr.  Watkins 
was  harnessing  up  their  horse  for  them.  Turning  to  Hope 
she  said  :  " 

"I  trust  you  may  return  to  this  county  soon.  Miss 
Caldwell.  I  want  you  to  visit  me,  too,  when  you  do 
return.  Come  right  along.  You  need  not  mind  if  my 
husband  is  a  little  rough  at  times.  He  is  always  clever 
and  means  well,  but  sometimes,  when  very  much  crossed, 
he  may  speak  a  little  brusquely,  as  you  once  heard  him." 

"Hope  looked  at  the  lady  in  silent  wonder.  After  all, 
was  there  any  accounting  for  a  woman's  love  ?  And  could 
as  intelligent  a  woman  as  Mrs.  Leonard  really  imagine  that 
she  could  make  her  husband  appear  in  an  amiable  light  to 


188  '  THEN    AND  NOW  ; 

other  ladies  ?  It  was  a  marvel  to  our  heroine,  yet  at  heart 
she  thought  the  more  of  her  friend  for  her  loyalty  to  her 
husband.  For  no  matter,  she  reflected,  how  wrong  a 
liusband  may  act,  it  best  becomes  a  wife  to  be  somewhat 
blind  to  his  faults,  and  more  especially  before  the  world. 
And  after  all  Mr.  Leonard  may  liave  good  qualities.  Like 
many  other  women,  Mrs,  Leonard  had  wrecked  her  happi- 
ness by  marrying  an  unworthy  man,  but  unlike  some,  her 
destiny  being  fixed,  she  strove  to  make  the  best  of  it.  Like 
the  lovely  vine  twining  around  the  old,  decayed  tree,  and 
striving  to  hide  its  deformity  from  every  eye,  so  did  she 
strive  to  palliate  her  husband's  every  fault  and  endeavor 
to  render  his  home  a  Paradise.  Would  she  ever  win  him 
back  to  truth  and  righteousness  ?  would  he  withstand  all 
the  gentle  influences  of  his  home ''.  Oh  !  thought  Hope,  if 
such  a  wife  as  she  is,  if  such  a  child  as  Violet  was  cannot 
reclaim  a  man,  then  I  believe  that,  like  Saul  of  Tarsus,  a 
miracle  must  be  wrought  in  his  favor  ere  he  repent ;  the 
light  from  Heaven's  own  gates  must  shine  around  him,  and 
the  voice  of  Jesus  speak  to  him  as  it  did  to  Saul.  Figura- 
tively she  was  doubtless  correct  in  her  views.  But  she  did 
not  express  her  thought  in  words.  She  simply  promised 
Mrs.  Leonard  to  visit  her  upon  her  return  should  she  decide 
to  do  so.  She  gave  both  ladies  a  cordial  invitation  to  visit 
her  should  they  ever  come  to  Tradeville,  Then  adieus 
were  made,  and  Hope  watched  her  friends  until  they  were 
out  of  sight.  With  a  heart  saddened  by  the  thoughts  of 
the  many  partings  she  had  to  take,  she  went  to  her  room, 
and  there,  upon  the  table,  she  for  the  first  time  noticed  a 
magazine,  which  must  have  been  placed  there  by  one  of  the 
children.  Mr.  VVatkins  had  just  returned  from  the  post- 
office  and  had  brought  it  thence  with  him.  As  she  turned 
over  the  leaves  again  did  that  familiar  nora-de  plume  greet 
her  eye,  and  with  a  rai^idly  beating  heart  she  read  the  fol- 
lowing lines  : 


OR  hope's  first  school.  189 

"  MY  FUTURE  HOME." 
'  I'll  have  a  home  some  day, 

A  home,  but  not  with  thee  ; 
That  Hweetest  of  all  earthly  gifts 

Will  never  be  for  me. 
I'll  have  a  home,  and  bright  and  fair 

And  gay  that  home  will  be. 
Be  bright  with  pictures  and  with  flowers, 

But  not  seem  bright  to  me ; 
For  there  will  not  be  there 
My  every  joy  to  share  ; 
And  Oh,  my  love,  when  thou  art  gone, 
I  feel,  indeed,  as  one  alone. 

A  giddy  throng  shall  dance  around 

As  music  breathes  its  strain, 
And  laughter  seem  to  mock  the  fate 

Of  one  who  loves  in  vain  ; 
And  youthful  forms  in  festal  garb 

Shall  long  the  hours  to  chain. 
Those  fleeting  hours,  which  fly  so  fast 

And  ne'er  return  again. 
But  when  the  world  is  brightest 
And  when  my  heart  is  lightest, 
A  yearning  vain  will  come  to  me. 
Oh  !  that  my  loved  one  here  might  be! 

Oh  !  beautiful  my  bride  shall  be, 

A  queen  to  grace  my  home  ; 
Her  charms  should  stay  my  waudering  feet 

And  bid  me  never  roam. 
Her  form  so  light,  her  face  so  fair, 

A  heart  of  stone  might  melt, 
Yet  gazing  in  her  sparkling  eyes 

Love  still  may  be  unfelt  ; 
For  even  as  she  smiles  on  me 
My  heart  will  backward  turn  to  thee 
As  Eve  once  turned  her  longing  eyes 
Back  to  the  gates  of  Paradise. 

Well,  life  is  short,  and  bright  or  dark, 

What  difTerence  at  its  close  ? 
The  rich  man  'mid  his  treasures  dies. 


190  THEN    AND    NOW  ; 

The  begj^ar  'mid  his  woes. 
Tiie  happiest  or  the  saddest  life 

Is  even  at  the  tomb  ; 
OOe  lays  all  earthly  joys  aside, 

The  other  earthly  gloom. 
And  all  alike  'twill  be  to  me 
When  once  the  pearly  gates  I  see  ; 
For  there,  Oh !  there,  I  hope  to  meet 
And  walk  with  thee  the  golden  street !  " 

The  reader  can  well  imagine  the  emotions  excited  in  the 
mind  of  Hope  by  the  perusal  of  the  verses  just  quoted. 

"  Alas  !  "  she  exclaimed,  "it  seems  so  hard  to  dash  the 
cup  of  happiness  not  only  from  one's  own  lips,  but  also 
from  those  of  another  even  dearer  than  yourself !  But 
Rodney  is  cruel  in  his  love  for  me.  Wh}''  will  he  not  leave 
me  alone  to  my  fate  ?  Why  ever  call  to  mind  tlie  joys 
that  I  have  lost  ?  Since  we  cannot  marry,  why  cherish 
every  regret,  instead  of  banishing  it  from  mind  ?  I  wonder 
if,  in  the  sight  of  God,  it  would  not  be  less  sinful  to  break 
his  plighted  word  than  to  marry  Amelia  feeling,  as  he  does 
now,  that  he  cannot  love  her  ?  And  yet,  Oh  !  merciful 
Father,  I  can  call  to  mind  a  woman  whom  I  saw 
in  the  days  of  my  childhood  who  had  lost  her  reason  from 
having  been  jilted  and  who  had  afterwards  to  be  shut  up  in 
the  walls  of  an  insane  asylum  on  that  account.  Suppose 
the  like  were  to  happen  to  Amelia,  could  I  ever  be  happy 
again  ?  No  !  though  she  had  no  j)ity  on  me,  I  will  spare 
her  from  even  the  iDOssibility  of  such  a  fate  ? " 

Thus  Hope  reasoned,  but  her  mind  w^as  in  almost  a 
chaotic  state,  and  she  had  to  call  into  exercise  all  the 
Ijowers  of  a  will  which  was  naturally  very  strong  to  subdue 
her  emotions.  It  often  happens  that  when  our  feelings  of 
grief  or  anger  are  wrought  up  to  their  highest  pitch  there 
is  no  better  safety-valve  than  to  have  the  mind  diverted 
from  our  woes  to  the  utterly  common-place  or  ridiculous. 
Perhaps  the  sympathy  of  the  best  friends  the  had  on  earth 


OR  hope's  first  school.  191 

would  not  have  had  so  beneficial  effect  on  Hope  just  now 
as  did  the  unexpected  visit  of  Mr.  Fogyman,  who  thought 
"he'd  call  jest  to  tell  Miss  Hope  good-bye."  He  had  also 
brought  her  a  parting  gift,  being  no  more  nor  less  than  a 
little  old-timed  looking  basket  made  of  willow.  He  had 
made  it  himself,  he  said,  and  thought  maybe  she'd  prize 
it,  it  being  home-made.  Now,  as  Mr.  Fogyman  was  a 
widower,  a  fact  which  was  but  lately  revealed  to  Hope,  it 
must  be  confessed  that  she  rather  hesitated  in  accepting  a 
gift  presented,  too,  in  such  a  manner,  and  yet  could  she 
afford  to  make  an  enemy  by  refusing  it?  It  seemed 
supremely  ridiculous  to  her,  but  she  thanked  him,  not- 
withstanding, saying  as  she  did  so,  that  she  prized  anything 
manufactured  at  home.  This  little  remark  opened  the 
floodgates  of  Mr.  Fogyman' s  eloquence  : 

"  That  is  what  I  tell  my  children.  Miss  Hope  ;  anything 
manufactured  at  home  is  better  than  brought  here  and  sold 
to  us.  Jest  look  at  my  clothes  !  How  long  would  Yankee 
goods  stand  like  this  suit  has  done?  My  gals  wove  'em 
right  at  home.  Sal  can  weave  five  yards  of  cloth  a  day  and 
cook  three  meals.  We  gets  along  all  right,"  and  lowering 
his  voice  a  little  :  "  I've  got  sev'ral  thousand  in  the  bank 
right  now,  but  you're  the  only  one  that  knows  it.  Ef  I 
ever  marry  agin  that  goes  to  my  wife.  The  chil'ren  knows 
nothing  about  it!" 

Hope  was  sitting  out  on  the  j)iazza,  whither  she  had  gone 
to  read  Rodney's  mournful  verses  when  Mr.  Fogyman 
came,  and  she  offered  him  a  seat  out  there.  Mrs.  Watkins 
was  in  her  own  room,  which  opened  upon  the  piazza,  and 
Hope  could  imagine  her  amusement,  as  every  word  of  this 
conversation  fell  upon  her  ears.  How  she  wished  that  she 
would  come  in  just  now  and  give  her  some  opportunity  to 
escape.  The  conversation  was  getting  altogether  too  confi- 
dential for  her,  and  she  fervently  wished  that  she  had  not 
accepted  the  "  old  basket." 


192  THEN  AND   NOW 


5 


Mr.  Fogyman  continued:  "I  jest  wish  yon  could  see 
my  house,  Miss  Hope  ;  it  is  nice  enough  for  anybody, 
although  I  helped  get  out  the  timber  myself,  and  nearly  all 
of  the  furniture  is  home-made.  I  think  that  a  woman 
could  get  along  splendid  with  my  children,  'specially  ef 
she  knew  their  dispositions.  ("Mercy  on  us!"  thought 
Hope ;  "will  none  of  them  ever  come  out  here  ? '")  I  liked 
your  teachin'  right  well ;  the  chil'ren  all  like  you,  too, 
'tho  I  tells  them  it's  heap  more  like  playin'  at  school  than 
it  used  to  be." 

"I  suppose,"  said  Hope,  anxious  to  say  anything  to 
divert  the  subject  of  conversation,  "that  times  were  quite 
different  when  you  were  young  ? " 

"Yes,  indeed,  though  I'm  not  an  old  man,  Miss  Hope, 
not  by  any  means.  No  !  I'm  jest  in  my  prime  ;  yet  times 
hev  changed  even  sence  the  war.  I  believe  people  was 
better  during  the  war — more  smarter  like.  Ef  they  had 
lived  sence  like  they  did  then,   they'd   been   rich   folks 


now." 


"I  guess  so,"  she  replied;  "but  I  would  hate  to  live 
like  they  did  then,  even  to  get  rich.  1  would  like  to  dress 
in  silks  and  satins  and  have  diamonds  at  command,  if  I 
could." 

We  are  afraid  Hope  said  this  more  to  be  contrary  to 
Mr.  Fogyman  than  from  any  real  love  of  splendor.  The 
old  man  smiled  what  was  meant  to  be  a  most  benevolent, 
yet  deprecating  smile,  as  he  said  : 

"Pride!  all  pride!  Miss  Hope!  You  know  tlie  Good 
Book  tells  us  'not  to  be  high-minded.'  " 

"Yes;  but  people  can  be  high-minded  in  calicoes  or 
domestics  as  easily  as  in  silks  and  satins." 

"Well,  I  suppose  you  teach  for  your  money,  it  comes 
easy  to  you,  anyway,  and  you  don't  mind  spending  it ; 
but  folks  as  has  to  work  hard  for  a  livin'  has  to  be  more 
pertickler.     ("It  comes  easy!     I  wonder,  then,"  thought 


OR  hope's  first  school.  193 

she,  "whose  money  comes  hard  i ")  But  I  'spose  you  are 
not  a  goin'  to  teach  here  any  longer,  Miss  Hope  'i " 

"  No,  sir,  I  do  not  intend  to." 

"So  I  heerd ;  and  so  sez  I  to  the  gals  maybe  ef  Miss 
Hope  won't  teach  she'll  agree  to  except  another  situation. 
Now,  Miss  Hope,  I'm  well  able  to  take  care  of  a  wife,  and 
seein'  you  are  not  used  to  hard  work,  my  gals  can  take  all 
the  drudgery  off  your  hands  and  you  shall  live  like  a 
lady  ;  and — 

At  this  moment  Mr.  Watkins  appeared  ui)on  the  scene, 
and  thanking  Heaven  for  the  interruption,  the  girl  hastily 
excused  herself  and  went  into  Mrs.  Watkins'  room.  That 
good  lady  had  laughed  until  her  eyes  shone  with  tears. 

"  How  unfortunate  that  Mr,  Watkins  should  have  come 
at  such  an  inappropos  time.  We  might  have  had  a  wed- 
ding before  you  left,"  she  said,  jestingly. 

"Mrs.  Watkins,  I  almost  hate  old  Mr.  Fogyman  !  I 
know  I'm  very  wrong,  but  I  can't  help  feeling  so.  And  as 
for  his  old  basket,  I  am  going  to  give  it  back  to  him  !  It 
all  came  of  my  accepting  that ! " 

"No,  no,  child,  he  has  had  this  matter  in  view  for  some- 
time,  for  he  inquired  of  Mr.  Watkins  what  chance  he 
thought  he  stood.  Don't  be  so  troubled  about  it,  Mr. 
Fogyman  is  a  very  respectable,  if  a  very  illiterate  man, 
and  is  really  all  that  he  pretends  to  be." 

"The  idea  of  my  being  step-mother  for  Sail"  she 
exclaimed,  betwixt  laughter  and  tears  ;  it  is  so  ridiculous  !  " 

"  It  is,  indeed,  yet  it  was  the  highest  compliment  that  he 
could  pay  you,  and  really  you  are  the  first  woman  that  he 
has  ever  paid  any  attention  to  since  his  wife's  death," 

"Please,  Mrs.  Watkins,  don't  let  anyone  else  know 
about  it,"  pleaded  Hope.  She  thought  of  Rodney  hearing 
of  her  droll  admirer,  and  the  reflection  troubled  her.  She 
did  not  think  that  it  proved  how  lovely  and  attractive  she 
was  to  all.     She  felt  mortified  that  Mr^  Fogyman  ever  got 


194  THEN   AND   NOW  ; 

any  chance  to  say  so  much  to  her.  She  felt  almost  humil- 
iated at  the  idea  of  a  man  of  his  order  paying  his  addresses 
to  her.  Yet,  after  all,  she  reflected,  as  ridiculous  as  he  is, 
there  may  be  worse  people  in  fashionable  society.  He  is 
honest,  industrious  and  means  well,  and  if  he  has  not  had 
advantages  that  is  not  his  fault.  So  I  will  not  trouble 
myself  about  it.  And  I  will  keep  the  basket  in  remem- 
brance of  my  rustic  lover  and  of  my  first  school. 

Mr.  Fogyman  never  obtained  the  chance  of  finishing 
what  he  had  to  say  to  her  in  person,  and  being  but  an 
indifferent  scribe,  he  concluded  to  let  the  matter  drop.  He 
had  good  sense  enough  to  perceive  that  any  farther  atten- 
tion from  him  would  be  disagreeable  to  our  heroine.  As 
he  afterwards  remarked  to  an  intimate  friend  of  his : 

"  I  seed  that  '  my  cake  was  all  dough '  there.  Times  has 
changed.  Gals  used  to  be  glad  of  a  chance  of  marryin'  a 
man  with  a  four-horse  farm,  a  good  house  and  money  in 
bank  ;  but  now  ef  theys  poor  as  Job's  turkey  they  hist  up 
their  noses  unless  a  feller  has  book  larnin'.  But  Miss 
Hope  is  a  good  teacher  and  I'll  send  my  children  to  her  ef 
she  comes  back.     I  haven't  got  nothin'  agin  her." 

Mr.  Fogyman' s  visit,  however,  had  the  effect  of  diverting 
the  mind  of  our  heroine  from  very  painful  thoughts  and 
was  a  "blessing  in  disguise."  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Watkins  and 
Robert  King  rallied  her  a  good  deal  in  regard  to  Mr. 
Fogyman,  and  their  bantering  helped  to  relieve  her  mind. 
Laughter  is  a  good  medicine  when  taken  in  moderation, 
and  mirth  is  certainly  conducive  not  only  to  good  health, 
but  also  to  that  cheerful  frame  of  mind  which  is  of  more 
value  than  "great  riches.'" 


OR  hope's  first  school.  195 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 


The  last  day  of  Hope's  stay  at  Mrs.  Watkins'  the  iiouse 
was  crowded  with  visitors  from  early  morn  till  dewy  eve. 
First  came  Miss  Rachel  Tyler  and  her  household.  They 
made  their  appearance  before  the  breakfast  dishes  were 
cleared  away.  They  wished  to  tell  Miss  Hope  good-bye, 
so  Miss  Rachel  stated,  and  also  to  bring  her  a  present 
which  she  hoped  she  wouldn't  laugh  at.  The  present  was 
a  very  pretty  bed-quilt,  which  Miss  Rachel  and  the  children 
had  made  and  quilted  with  their  own  hands. 

"Laugh  at!"  replied  Hope;  "that  I  will  not,  Miss 
Rachel.  I  will  try  to  keej)  it  as  long  as  1  live  for  your 
sake  and  in  memory  of  my  first  school.  Be  assured  I  will 
never  forget  you  or  the  children." 

She  made  Miss  Rachel  very  happy  by  the  presentation 
of  a  little  breakfast  shawl,  which  she  happened  to  have  in 
her  possession,  but  had  never  worn. 

"Well,  if  that  ain't  pretty!"  exclaimed  the  old  lady 
and  the  children  in  unison,  as  they  stroked  the  soft  wool. 
I  never  seed  nothing  no  prettier.  I'll  always  think  of  you, 
Miss  Hope,  when  I  look  at  it,  for  it  looks  jest  like  you." 

"Perhaps  the  garnet  ribbon,  which  Hope  was  accus 
tomed  to  wear,  produced  this  illusion. 

"'Pears  to  me  I  hate  to  give  you  up  jest  as  bad  as  if 
you  was  kin  to  me.  I  never  hated  to  part  with  nobody 
much  worse." 

Tears,  real  tears,  were  shining  in  Miss  Rachel's  eyes,  and 
the  teacher  could  not  help  feeling  touched. 

"Never  mind,"  she  replied;  "we  may  all  meet  again. 
Perhaps  I  will  visit  you  sometime.  I  exi^ect  to  return  here 
some  day  in  the  far  future." 


196  THEN    AND   NOW  ; 

"You'd  better  have  stayed  when  you  was  here  -better 
have  married  Mr.  Rodney  Gilbert  and  been  mistress  of  that 
fine  house  and  plantation,  I  tell  you  what,  Miss  Hope, 
people  thinks  he's  offish  and  selfish,  but  he  ain't.  Many 
a  time  he  has  sent  a  hand  to  help  me  in  my  crop  when  I 
was  hard  pressed,  and  he  would  have  helped  me  a  heaj) 
more  ef  I  had  let  him.  He  was  mighty  kind  to  me  once 
when  I  was  sick,  too  ;  sent  me  fruit  and  ice  and  nice  things 
a  plenty.  Then  he  is  so  good  to  his  mother.  Man}^  a 
whinin'  hippercrit  will  be  sliet  oiiten  the  golden  city  afore 
him,  and  I  say  that  the  woman  who  gits  him  will  git  a 
prize,  and  right  sorry  i  am  that  you  kicked  him." 

"  That  is  a  mistaken  idea,"  said  Hope  ;  "  people  always 
guess  at  such  things  without  proof  of  it." 

"Maybe  so,  child  ;  anyhow  I  don't  expect  you  to  tell 
me  ;  but  you  might  go  farther  and  do  a  heap  worse." 

Was  it  strange  that  Rodney's  praises  sounded  so  sweetly 
to  Hope,  coming  even  from  Aunt  Rachel  %  It  jiroved, 
after  all,  that  her  instincts  were  right,  that  there  was  some- 
thing noble  in  her  lover's  nature,  that  her  idol  was  not 
"common  clay."  The  thought  afforded  her  |)leasure,  yet 
it  was  i)leasure  closely  allied  to  pain,  for  with  all  this 
nobility  of  character  was  he  not  lost  to  her  forever,  and 
that  by  her  own  act,  though  not  by  her  own  fault  I  Miss 
Rachel  continued : 

"  That  young  lady  he's  goin'  to  see  is  mighty  pretty, 
Miss  Hope,  mighty  pretty;  but  she's  no  more  like  you 
than  chalk  is  like  cheese  ;  never  any  more  speaks  to  a  body 
than  if  they  was  niggers.  I  can't  b'ar  her  ways.  I'd  be 
sorry  to  see  Mr,  Gilbert  marry  her.  The  colored  gal  what 
washes  for  her  sez  she's  the  hardest  thing  to  please  she 
ever  seed,  and  then  grinds  her  down  to  the  last  cent  when 
she  comes  to  pay  her." 

This  subject  was  not  agreeable  to  Hope,  and  she  endea- 
vored to  change  it. 


OR  hope's  first  school.  197 

"  I  suppose  you  will  have  a  teacher  here  next  session, 
Miss  Rachel  r' 

"  I  hope  so,  for  I  want  to  keep  the  children  straight  on. 
They  are  in  a  fair  way  of  learnin'  now,  and  I  would  be 
will  in'  to  live  on  bread  and  water  to  see  them  eddicated. 
I'll  strain  a  p'int  and  hire  lielj^  to  let  them  go  to  school.  I 
intend  Octavia  and  Eugenia  to  take  music  lessons  soon." 

''That's  right,  give  them  a  good  chance  and  they'll  pay 
you  for  all  of  your  trouble,  for  they  are  well  disposed 
children." 

"Miss  Hope,  it  makes  my  blood  run  cold  to  think  of 
those  children  ever  growin'  uj)  wrong.  Now,  there's  Sam 
and  Joe  Liggins — mere  boys  like,  yet  they  get  drunk  now  ; 
take  their  daddy's  whiskey  when  he's  asleep  sometimes, 
and  run  the  risk  of  a  whippin'.  Mr.  Leonard's  got  a  heap 
to  answer  for,  Miss  Hope,  a  heap !  He's  got  a  line  eddica- 
tion  and  used  to  be  rich,  and  men  like  Mr.  Liggins  looks 
up  to  him,  and  instid  of  settin'  them  a  good  example,  thar 
he  is  a  drinkin'  himself  and  a  gettin'  him  to  buy  that  nasty 
stuff— pizen  I  calls  it,  wdiat  he  sells  ;  and  as  ef  that  wasn't 
enough,  he  gets  them  to  i)lay  cards  and  wins  their  money. 
Oh  !  he's  a  bad  man.  Miss  Hope,  a  mighty  bad  man  !  And 
sich  a  wife  as  he's  got!  An  angel,  I  call  her,  for  I  some- 
times thinks  she  would  jest  have  to  get  wings  and  she 
would  be  let  right  in  the  pearly  gates." 

Never  had  the  truth  of  what  she  had  ever  believed  in 
regard  to  education  impressed  itself  so  forcibly  upon  the 
mind  of  our  heroine  as  now,  viz :  that  unless  the  heart — 
the  moral  nature,  is  trained  along  with  the  intellect,  that 
the  mere  acquisition  of  knowledge  may  prove  fully  as  much 
of  a  curse  as  a  blessing.  Here  were  two  examples  coming 
under  her  own  observation — that  of  Miss  Rachel,  with  no 
book  learning,  with  no  advantages  whatever,  who,  with 
just  a  simple  determination  to  do  right,  was  leading  a 
useful  life  in  the  community  and  training  up  her  nieces  and 


198  THEN   AND    NOW  ; 

nephew  to  be  blessings  to  all  around  them  ;  while  Mr. 
Leonard,  with  every  gift  that  nature  could  afford,  with 
every  advantage  that  fortune  could  bestow,  was  no  comfort 
to  himself,  to  his  wife,  or  to  any  one  connected  with  him, 
and  was  a  very  great  disadvantage  to  the  community  in 
which  he  resided,  his  talents  rendering  his  influence  far 
more  fatal  than  if  he  were  an  ignorant  man.  Miss  Rachel 
proceeded : 

"  Sech  carryin'  on  at  Mr.  Liggins'  sometimes  I  He  beats 
his  poor  wife  till  the  blood  comes,  and  his  boys  too,  and 
still  the}^  don' t  get  no  better  ;  the  worst  boys  I  ever  seed  ! 
Ef  I  thought  Adolphus  would  ever  do  so  I  would  pray  God 
to  let  him  die  now.  I  don't  preach  much  to  them,  though  ; 
I  jest  tries  to  keep  them  out  of  bad  company." 

"Yes,"  replied  Hoi:>e ;  "that  is  where  the  ruin  of  a 
person  generally  begins.  Bad  habits  are  as  contagious  as 
small-pox  or  3^ellow  fever,  and  really  more  to  be  dreaded. 
Keep  the  children  in  good  company,  give  them  useful 
books  to  read,  let  them  go  to  Sunday  School  and  church 
regularly,  give  them  work  enough  to  do,  and  also  a  plenty 
of  amusements,  and  they  are  not  apt  to  wander  very  far 
out  of  the  right  way.  There  are  two  things  which  tend  to 
make  bad  men  and  women — one  is  the  lack  of  work,  the 
other  of  play.  Emjjloyment  of  a  useful  nature  keeps  the 
mind  busy,  and  the  temptation  to  do  wrong  is  lessoned. 
But  the  mind  cannot  be  always  at  work,  and  danger  creeps 
in  during  the  hours  of  relaxation,  unless  some  innocent 
amusement  be  provided  to  keep  that  ever  active  brain 
employed.  Many  a  child  has  been  driven  from  home  for 
lack  of  pleasant  amusement  there.  1  do  not  believe  in 
always  lecturing  children.  And  in  our  judgment  of  others 
we  must  ever  try  to  bear  in  mind  the  fact  that  there  may 
be  some  excuse  for  their  conduct.  No  matter  how  bad  a 
person  is,  we  may  pity  while  we  blame,  for  we  cannot 
always  tell  all  the  causes  which  led  to  one's  downfall.     In 


OR   hope' 8   FIRST   SCHOOL.  199 

my  inmost  heart  I  always  sympathize  with  every  one  who 
is  a  wanderer  from  the  right  way." 

"Miss  Hope,  I  jest  think  you've  got  one  of  the  kindest 
hearts  I  ever  seed  ;  who'd  ever  have  thought  of  making 
excuses  for  people  like  you  do  ?  " 

During  all  this  conversation,  which  the  reader  must 
allow  was  very  serious  for  a  morning's  call,  Mrs.  Watkins 
was  out  attending  to  domestic  duties  and  the  children  had 
gone  into  the  flower  yard.  She  now  entered  the  room,  and 
after  the  usual  civilities  were  passed  and  she  and  Miss 
Rachel  had  indulged  in  a  short  confab  tli,e  latter  arose  to 
take  her  departure : 

"I've  got  to  go  home,"  she  said.     It's  my  ironin'  da3^" 

No  persuasion  could  induce  her  to  remain. 

"May  the  Lord  bless  you,"  she  said  to  Hope;  "you 
deserve  it  if  anybody  does." 

The  children  and  herself  bade  the  teacher  and  Mrs. 
AVatkins  a  kind  farewell,  then  clambered  into  the  cart  in 
which  they  had  come  and  drove  off".  Hope  watched  them 
till  out  of  sight,  feeling  that  she  had  bid  adieu  to  kind 
friends  when  she  bade  them  good-bye.  Scarcely  had  she 
folded  up  her  quilt  and  put  it  away  ere  two  other  buggies 
drove  up,  one  containing  Mary  and  Hattie  Stuart,  the  other 
Estelle  Moran  and  Edgar  Stuart.  They  all  seemed  in  high 
spirits,  and  after  the  customary  compliments  of  the  da}" 
had  been  passed  and  they  were  seated  in  the  parlor,  Hattie 
entered  into  a  glowing  description  of  a  ball  which  they  had 
just  attended,  inquiring  particularly  "why  Hope  did 
not  go." 

"I  did  not  wish  to,"  was  her  reply.  "I  received  my 
ticket  several  days  ago,  and  a  young  friend  of  mine  offered 
to  see  me  there,  but  I  did  not  care  for  it." 

"  Well,  you  missed  a  treat !  Such  a  nice  band  of  music 
as  we  had !     And  such  a  pleasant  crowd  !  " 

"  Isn't  Miss  Montcalm  lovely  ? "  inquired  Mary. 


200  THEX   AND    NOW  ; 

" She  is,  indeed,"  said Hattie  ;  "and Mr.  Rodney  Gilbert 
is  so  devoted  !  " 

Hope  understood  the  motive  of  these  remarks,  but  sat 
seemingly  as  emotionless  as  a  statue  of  marble.  If  she 
was  stabbed  to  the  heart  by  false  friends  she  could  at  least 
prevent  them  from  witnessing  her  agony  ;  she  could  "die 
and  make  no  sign."  Hattie  and  Mary  had  never  forgiven 
her  for  appropriating  Rodney's  attention,  even  for  a  brief 
while,  and  they  took  this  method  of  avenging  a  fancied 
wrong. 

"  Her  father  is  very  well  off,  I  believe,"  remarked  Edgar 
Stuart ;  "and  I  think  that  she  is  an  only  child.  Probably 
her  prosj)ective  wealth  is  not  the  least  of  her  charms.  I 
think  she  is  very  pretty,  but  for  my  j^art  would*be  afraid 
to  trust  her.     She  has  a  lot  of  deceit  in  her  face." 

Hope  wondered  if  he  said  this  because  he  thought  it 
would  please  her,  or  was  he  a  really  good  physiognomist? 

"  Edgar  is  always  imagining  that  he  can  read  people's 
dispositions  in  their  faces!"  exclaimed  Mary;  "for  my 
part,  I  think  Miss  Montcalm's  expression  is  perfect." 

"  I  don't,"  said  the  frank  young  man.  "  So  far  as  lovely 
hair,  regular  features,  exquisite  complexion  and  a  graceful 
form  go,  she  is  perfection  itself  ;  but  haughtiness  and 
deceit  are,  to  my  thinking,  plainly  stamped  upon  her  face. 
I'll  agree  that  I  know  nothing  about  faces  if  such  is  not 
the  case.     Have  you  ever  seen  her.  Miss  Hojje?  " 

"  Yes,"  was  her  reply;  "I  know  her  very  well.  We 
were  schoolmates  for  a  few  months." 

"  Then  you  understand  her  nature  ;  you  could  let  us  into 
the  secret  if  you  had  a  mind  to,"  said  Edgar,  laughingly  ; 
"but  of  coarse  we  would  not  expect  it  of  you." 

"No;  if  I  knew  anything  disparaging  of  her  I  would 
not  take  the  pains  to  trumpet  it  abroad  ;  but  I  liked  her 
very  much  during  our  school  life." 

Here  was  a  mystery  for  the  girls !     Amelia  and  Hope 


OR  hope's  first  school.  201 

schoolmates!  yet,  to  their  certain  knowledge,  no  visits  had 
been  exchanged  between  them  !  What  could  be  the  cause  ? 
K-odnej^  Gilbert,  without  a  doubt !  jealousy  and  nothing 
else  !  Hope,  too,  puzzled  them.  She  seemed  so  composed 
and  cool  while  they  w^ere  talking  about  her  rival,  so  indif- 
ferent to  the  subject  as  to  perplex  them  very  much.  And 
although  in  some  respects  they  really  liked  her  and  would 
have  befriended  her,  yet,  with  strange  inconsistency,  they 
would  just  now  have  gloried  in  seeing  her  writhe  under 
the  tortures  of  jealousy — would  have  spared  her  no  pang. 
They  felt  that  it  would  be  a  justifiable  revenge  for  the 
suffering  inflicted  on  them  by  Rodney's  former  attention 
to  her.  Of  so  strange  a  nature  is  human  friendship  in 
some  instances  !  Then,  too,  not  only  Rodney,  but  most  of 
the  other  eligible  young  men  around  x^aid  her  considerabla 
attention,  and  envy  had  taken  such  full  possession  of  their 
hearts  as  to  leave  but  little  room  for  true  love  to  dwell 
there.  Estelle  was  different  in  her  conduct  toward  our 
heroine.  She  did  not  torment  herself  or  others  by  idle 
jealousy.  Rodney  Gilbert  and  Amelia  Montcalm  seemed 
interesting  topics  of  conversation  to  the  two  sisters.  They 
described  her  ball  dress  to  our  heroine  : 

'•  It  was  a  pink  silk,"  said  Mary,  "with  an  overdress  of 
lace,  looped  up  with  lilies  of  the  valle3^" 

"And  weren't  those  pearls  exquisite T'  said  Hattie. 
Miss  Hope,  she  wore  pearl  ornaments  in  her  golden  hair 
and  on  her  snow-white  neck  and  wrists,  and  it  did  seem  to 
me  that  an  angel  could  not  be  more  beautiful." 

"  She  is,  indeed,  a  most  charming  girl,"  replied  Hope. 
I  really  consider  her  nearer  to  perfection  in  face  and  figure 
than  anyone  I  ever  saw.  She  and  Mr.  Gilbert  will  make  a 
handsome  couple." 

"1  don't  think  him  handsome,"  said  Hattie ;  "his 
expression  is  too  sour." 

Hope  was  forcibly  reminded  of  the  fable  of  "The  Fox 


202  THEN    AND   NOW 


and  the  Grapes,"  but  said  nothing.  After  all,  were  such 
trifling  speeches  worth  reply  ?  Yet,  as  the  largest  and 
strongest  animals  can  be  stung  well  nigh  to  madness  by 
small  insects,  so  can  the  noblest  natures  sometimes  be 
tortured  almost  to  desperation  by  very  insignificant  people. 
Hattie  continued  after  a  moment's  pause  : 

"Mr.  Gilbert  may  have  been  cross  because  his  sweet- 
heart was  dancing  so  much  with  Dr.  Jones.  She  waltzes 
exquisitely,  and  so  does  the  doctor,  and  I  suppose  that 
Mr.  Gilbert  did  not  fancy  their  waltzing  together  so  much. 
At  least  people  thought  so.  But  I  think  Miss  Amelia 
pretty  indej)endent." 

Edgar  Stuart  was  far  better  natured  than  his  girl  cousins. 
He  had  been  penetrating  enough  to  notice  that  Rodney 
Gilbert  cherished  more  than  ordinary  regard  for  Hope,  and 
thought,  too,  that  she  was  by  no  means  indifferent  to  him, 
and  it  had  rather  puzzled  him  when  affairs  terminated  as 
they  had.  Still  he  felt  intuitively  that  this  conversation 
was  extremely  disagreeable  to  her,  and  endeavored  to 
change  it. 

"Miss  Hope,  you  cannot  tell  how  we  all  will  miss  you 
when  you  leave  this  county.  I  have  really  enjoyed  your 
company  very  much." 

"I  have  certainly  had  a  pleasant  time  since  I  came 
here,"  she  responded;  and  shall  ever  cherish  in  grateful 
remembrance  my  many  good  friends  here.  I  could  not 
have  met  with  more  kindness  and  hosjiitality  anywhere." 

"  I  am  delighted  that  you  fancy  our  part  of  the  county 
so  well,  and  wish  that  you  would  take  another  school 
here." 

"  I  do  not  expect  to  return  next  session.  I  shall  try  to 
get  a  situation  in  the  city,  where  I  can  pursue  my  own 
studies  to  advantage.     I  cannot  do  that  in  the  country." 

"No,  I  presume  not,  but  I  imagine  that  country  life  is 
really  more  enjoj^able.     If  you  want  to  have  a  good  time 


OR  HOPE'S  FIRST  SCHOOL.  203 

in  a  social  way,  a  i)leasaiit  country  neighborhood  is  the 
pLice  for  it.  But  I  think  that  Hattie  and  Mary  have  a 
notion  to  exchange  country  for  town  life."  And  he  began 
to  tease  his  cousins  and  Estelle  unmercifully.  He  related 
several  little  incidents  connected  with  the  ball.  Hattie  and 
Mary,  he  declared,  had  completely  charmed  two  very  fasci- 
nating young  students  from  the  University — Mr.  Percy  St. 
Clair  and  Mr.  Albert  Hamilton.  The  last  we  saw  of  them 
they  were  waving  their  handkerchiefs  as  the  train  sped  by, 
while  Mary  and  Hattie  were  stifling  back  the  tears  that 
came  in  their  eyes,  but  which  they  would  not  permit  to 
fall."' 

"  For  shame,  Edgar,  for  making  such  a  draft  upon  your 
imagination  !  I  fear  your  imaginative  power  will  fail  you 
'if  you  do  not  cease  from  drawing  upon  it  so  heavily  !  " 

"  No  danger  of  that,"  he  replied  ;  "  I  think  my  supply 
is  inexhaustible." 

"But,  Miss  Hope,"  said  the  two  girls,  "you  should 
have  seen  him  at  the  ball  talking  to  a  girl  whom  no  other 
gentleman  seemed  to  love  to  talk  to — she  was  so  ugly." 

"Hattie!  Mary!  you  are  carrjdng  jesting  too  far  now  ! 
That  young  lady  has  no  superior  in  conversational  power, 
and  is,  to  my  thinking,  extremely  interesting,  and  gentle- 
men do  not  value  her  at  her  true  worth  simply  because  she 
is  so  modest  and  retiring  that  they  think  her  destitute  of 
spirit  and  liveliness." 

"  Hope  noticed  the  sudden  color  that  mounted  to  cheek 
and  brow  as  he  spoke,  and  when,  two  years  after  this  con- 
versation she  heard  of  his  marriage  to  this  same  lady,  she 
was  not  at  all  suri^rised.     The  girls  laughed  teasingly  : 

"Just  listen  at  him  now!  taking  Mary  Conway's  part 
already  !  " 

The  reader  has  perhaps  already  grown  tired  of  this  non- 
sensical talk.  Though  all  of  the  girls  had  had  good 
advantages,  they  seemed  to  love  to  talk  nonsense  on  this 


204  THEN   AND   NOW  ; 

particular  day,  and  tliis  was  but  a  fair  specimen  of  the 
greater  part  of  their  conversation  on  this  occasion .  There 
was  one  thing,  however,  which  could  be  said  in  their  favor  : 
not  one  of  them  indulged  in  slang.  Their  chat  was  prin- 
cipally of  the  ball,  of  the  appearance  of  the  girls,  their 
dress,  etc.,  of  how  much  they  enjoyed  themselves  and  of 
how  they  hoped  to  have  equally  as  gay  a  time  at  no  distant 
period.  Then  came  in  profuse  expressions  of  regret  that 
Hope  was  about  to  leave  the  neighborhood  with  that  drop 
of  wormwood  which  Mary  and  Hattie  were  careful  to 
mingle  with  the  honey  of  their  converse  in  the  shape  of  a 
suggestion  "that  she  ought  to  stay  till  the  wedding  of 
Mr.  Kodney  Gilbert." 

"  I  might  remain  and  not  get  a  ticket  to  it,"  she  replied, 
with  a  smile.     "  When  does  the  happy  event  take  place  V 

"Oh,  it  is  not  exactly  known  ;  sometime  soon,  I  sup- 
pose." 

Edward,  Stuart  looked  at  Hope  admiringly,  and  felt 
provoked  with  Hattie  and  Mary. 

"  How  little  and  detestable  some  women  can  be  in  their 
spite,"  was  his  thought ;  then  he  remarked  :  "  Miss  Hope, 
these  two  girls  are  nearly  dying  of  envy.  Miss  Amelia 
Montcalm  and  Mr.  Rodney  Gilbert  are  their  main  topic  of 
conversation.     I  think  the  two  haunt  their  very  dreams." 

This  home  thrust  had  the  effect  of  embarrassing  the 
sisters  very  much,  and  it  completely  silenced  them  so  far 
as  any  farther  mention  of  Rodney  or  Amelia  was  con- 
cerned. It  was  a  rough  but  a  deserved  rebuke.  As  much 
as  Hope  loved  the  company  of  friends,  she  felt  unspeaka- 
bly relieved  when  the  four  took  their  departure,  for  the 
Stuart 'girls  had  not  only  destroyed  the  day's  pleasure  for 
her,  but  they  had  recalled  thoughts  which  she  was  ever 
striving  to  banish  from  her  mind,  and  which  tended  to 
render  her  very  unhappy.  After  they  had  gone  she  went 
to  her  room  and  for  sometime  sat  absorbed  in  painful 


OK  hope's  fiust  school.  20o 

meditation.  It  was  not  so  much  of  her  lover  as  of  human 
frailty  and  of  the  falsehood  of  human  friendship  in  many 
instances:  "  What  had  she  done  that  these  girls  should 
treat  her  in  this  manner  ?  Could  she  help  bein^^  as  she 
was,  attractive  to  one  whom  they  had  tried  in  vain  to  cap- 
tivate t  Had  she  not  shunned  his  society  partly  on  this 
very  account  ?  And  yet  they  seemed  to  take  delight  in 
saying  things  to  wound  her,  in  continually  reminding  her 
that  another  woman  had  replaced  her  in  his  affections  ! 
Alas  I  she  groaned  to  herself,  I  am  tempted  sometimes  to 
say  with  the  poet : 

"There's  nothing  true  but  Heaven." 

And  yet  have  I  not  good  friends?  Are  not  Mrs.  Watkins 
and  her  husband,  Mr.  Herbert  Ransom,  Mrs.  Leonard,  and 
a  host  of  others,  good,  kind,  true  friends  ?  Shall  I  then 
lose  confidence  in  human  nature  on  account  of  the  spiteful 
chat  of  two  envious  girls  'i  No,  I  will  not.  I  will  be  more 
sensible  than  that." 

Later  in  the  evening  Mr.  Daniel  Young  made  his  appear- 
ance. Hope  had  not  seen  him  for  sometime.  He  had  of 
late  been  more  distant  than  during  the  first  of  their 
acquaintanceship  ;  but  this  evening  he  was  particularly 
cordial  and  interesting.  He  had  recently  returned  from  a 
tri^i  to  the  mountains,  and  gave  our  heroine  a  glowing 
account  of  all  that  he  saw  during  his  sojourn  there.  "The 
Land  of  the  Sky"  lost  none  of  its  interest  to  her  from  his 
vivid  portrayal  of  its  beauty,  and  she  heaved  a  sigh  of 
regret  at  the  thought  that  she  and  her  mother  were  unable 
to  spend  the  remainder  of  the  summer  there  instead  of  at 
their  lowly  home  in  Tradeville. 

"  Poverty  is  a  bitter  thing,"  was  her  unspoken  thought  ; 
but  she  strove  to  repress  it. 

Mr.  Young  talked  on.  Sh  ?  was  a  good  listener,  and  he 
took  pleasure    in    conversing   with    her  mainly  on  this 


206  THEN    AND  NOW  : 


account.     But  she  was  not  wholly  silent.     "  A  very  inter- 
esting conversationalist,"  Mr.  Yonng  had  often  styled  her. 
The  long  hours  spent  at  her  own  home  in  the  society  of  the 
wisest  and  best  men  and  women  of  all  ages,  speaking  to 
her  through  printed  pages"  the  intimate  converse  she  had 
held  with  all  that  was  pure,  elevating  and  lovely  in  charac- 
ter, her  intense  love  of  the  beautiful-andher  superiority  to 
all  the  little  spite  and  rancor  which  sometimes  mar  the 
effect  of  the  most  attractive  face  and  figure,  rendered  her 
an   unusually  pleasant  companion.     Add  to  this  a  very 
independent  nature,  and  the  reader  need  not  be  deeply 
surprised  when  informed  that  Daniel  Young,   a  favored 
child  of  fortune,  a  man  of  the  world,  seemingly  proof  to 
all  female  charms,  had  at  last,  in  spite  of  apparent  indifl'er- 
ence,  fallen  as  deeply  in  love  with  Hope  Caldwell  as  it  was 
his  nature  to  ba  with  anyone.     The  revelation  cams  like  a 
thunderbolt  to  her.     He  had  taken  her  to  ride  on  this  the 
last  evening  of   her  stay  in   the  neighborhood,    and  had 
conversed  on  many  subjects  in  his  own  attractive  style, 
keeping  her  mind  diverted  from  bitter  thoughts,  and  ren- 
dering the  time  passed  in  his  comj^any  extremely  agreeable. 
The  horse's  head  was  turned  homeward  ere  he  made  any 
reference  to  the  subject  uppermost  in  his  mind.     Without 
jDreface  or  warning  in  any  way,   in  plain,   unmistakable 
terms  and  in  few  words,  he  told  her  of  his  love  and  of  his 
wish  for  her  to  marry  him.     It  did  not  seem  at  all  like 
Daniel  Young.     There   was  no  doubting  his  sincerity  in 
regard  to  what  he  declared.     There  was  a  tremor  in  his 
voice    which    betokened    his    emotion ;    his    every    look 
betrayed  him.     Hope  did  not  question  his  truth.     But  she 
felt  bewildered.     It  was  so  unexpected.     For  a  time  she 
said  nothing,    surprise  had   seemingly   dei:)rived  her  of 
speech. 

"  Am  I  to  have  my  answer  now  or  to  wait  for  it,  or  does 
your  silence  give  assent.  Miss  Hope  ?  " 


OR  hope's  first  school.  207 

"  You  are  so  sudden  ;  I  was  not  exi^ecting  such  a  thing," 
she  said  ;  "give  me  time  to  think." 

Then  tliere  was  silence  for  sometime,  a  most  embarrassing 
silence.  Away  down  in  the  cool,  green  forest  was  heard 
the  notes  of  a  far-off  bird,  the  sunbeams  w^ere  gilding  the 
tree-tops,  the  soft,  balmy  breeze  was  stealing  to  them  with 
refreshment  on  its  wi-ngs  ;  there  seemed  a  hush  on  every 
surrounding.  In  that  brief  while  our  heroine  thought 
deepl}^,  as  women  are  bound  to  think  at  such  times.  On 
her  decision  to  the  question  just  put  to  her  might  depend 
her  future  joy  or  woe.  She  reflected  on  her  own  poverty 
and  that  of  her  mother,  on  her  ambitious  dreams,  whose 
fulfillment  that  poverty  seemed  destined  to  x>revent,  on  her 
future  as  a  single  girl,  working  out  her  own  destiny, 
exposed  to  all  the  difficulties  which  a  lone  and  dependent 
woman  is  compelled  to  encounter,  and  doomed,  too,  to  see 
her  mother  suffering  for  lack  of  comforts  to  which  she  had 
once  been  accustomed  ;  this  picture  presented  itself  to  her 
view  on  the  one  hand ;  on  the  other  was  a  life  of  ease  and 
comfort,  with  a  husband  whom  almost  any  girl  might  be 
proud  to  claim,  a  well  educated,  -well-bred  gentleman,  easy 
in  manner  and  interesting  in  conversation,  who  was  fully 
able  to  gratify  her  every  wish  and  to  help  her  to  the  fulfill- 
ment of  every  ambitious  dream.  How  happy  such  a 
marriage  would  render  her  beloved  mother  !  Ought  she 
not  for  that  mothers  sake  accept  this  offer?  But  even  as 
she  considered  the  question  the  thought  came  to  her : 
"  Oh,  that  Rodney  had  been  free  to  win  my  hand  !  Oh, 
that  he  were  here  even  now !  and  with  that  name  the  full 
tide  of  recollection  swept  away  everj^  other  consideration, 
and  she  felt  that  it  would  be  wronging  any  man  to  ma.iry 
him  with  her  heart  straying  after  that  lost  love.  She  cou[d 
not  bind  herself  with  any  fetters  save  those  weldf^d  bj- 
purest,  deepest  affection.  Her  decision  made,  she  did  not 
hesitate  to  let  it  be  known  : 


208  THEN    AND    NOAV  ; 

"  I  am  very  sorry,  Mr.  Young — sorry  that  you  have  ever 
mentioned  this  subject,  and  feel  deeply  regretful  that  I  am 
compelled  to  decline  your  kind  oifer.  It  would  not  be 
doing  you  justice  to  give  you  my  hand  without  my  heart." 

"Can  you  not  defer  your  refusal  awhile  ?  Can  you  not 
learn  to  love  me  ? "  he  asked,  in  pleading  tones.  "  I  know 
of  late  that  I  have  seemed  somewhat  indifferent  to  you  ; 
but  it  has  been  purely  because  I  wished  to  conquer  my 
affection  for  you,  I  was  afraid  my  suit  would  be  useless 
and  strove  against  my  love ;  but  finding  that  effort  was 
vain,  I  determined  to  tell  you  all.  Let  me  prove  to  you 
how  dearly  I  love  you,  and  my  love  may  yet  meet  with  a 
return.  I  will  spend  my  life  in  your  service.  You  shall 
have  every  wish  fulfilled  if  3'ou  consent  to  be  mine." 

She  shook  her  head.  "  It  cannot  be,  Mr.  Young  ;  let  us 
dismiss  the  subject." 

When  she  saw  his  downcast  expression  as  she  spoke 
these  words,  her  heart  was  moved  to  tenderest  pity ;  but 
she  could  not  reverse  her  decision.  When  he  bade  her 
good-bye  he  requested  permission  to  correspond  with  her, 
but  this  she  would  not  grant,  and  so  he  left  very  much 
depressed  at  the  unsuccessful  issue  of  his  suit.  Some 
women  would  have  gloried  in  the  thought  of  this  conquest ; 
but  a  feeling  much  more  of  sorrow  than  of  triumph  filled 
the  heart  of  our  heroine  as  she  saw  him  ride  away  that 
evening. 

"Mine  is  a  sad  destiny,"  she  complained  to  herself. 
"  Something  ever  deprives  me  of  the  love  which  I  prize, 
while  that  which  I  care  not  for  is  laid  at  my  feet." 

Herbert  Hansom's  company  during  the  remainder  of  the 
summer  evening  was  very  pleasurable  to  her,  3^et  had  he 
revealed  to  her  what  was  in  his  heart  it  would,  if  possible, 
have  surprised  her  more  than  Daniel  Young's  declaration. 
A  hundred  times  in  the  course  of  his  visit  did  the  tempta- 
tion come  to  him  to  declare  himself,  at  all  hazards,  and  a 


OR  hope's  first  school.  209 

linndred  times  did  he  battle  with  that  temptation.  He  felt 
quite  sure  that  Rodney  occupied  the  higliest  niclie  in  her 
heart,  and  was  afraid  that  that  thought  would  destroy  his 
happiness,  even  were  he  fortunate  enough  to  win  her.  No 
other  man  would  ever  be  to  her  what  Rodney  was. 
Through  her  whole  life  she  would  have  tender  thoughts  of 
him,  no  matter  whom  she  might  marry.  So  thought  Her- 
bert, and  believing  thus  he  had  fully  resolved  never  to 
address  Hope.  This  last  evening  tried  that  resolution  to 
the  utmost.  She  was  prettier  than  he  had  ever  seen  her. 
Her  white  dress,  set  oft'  by  pink  ribbon  at  the  throat  and 
on  the  sleeves,  was  becoming  to  her,  and  in  her  hair  was  a 
moss  rosebud.  Her  cheeks  were  flushed,  and  as  she 
laughed  and  talked  with  him  the  bright  expression  of  her 
countenance  was  very  charming.  To  him  she  was  the  ideal 
of  whom  he  had  dreamed,  the  embodiment  of  all  that  he 
considered  most  lovely.  Yet  he  was  perhaps  to  take  his 
last  look  of  her  this  evening. 

"  I  shall  miss  you  very  much,  Miss  Hope,  more  than  3'ou 
ever  dreamed  of,"  he  said. 

"  I  am  so  glad  !  "  she  exclaimed. 

"Glad  !  and  why  ?"  he  inquired,  the  light  of  hope  leap- 
ing to  his  eyes  for  one  moment,  and  his  heart  beating 
wildly. 

"Because,"  she  rejoined,  "I  am  so  selflsh  as  to  be 
willing  that  others  suffer  pain  sooner  than  that  I  should  be 
forgotten." 

"  You  will  be  long  remembered  about  here.  Your  friends 
will  not  easily  let  your  memory  die.  But  I  wish  to  keep  it 
alive  in  a  more  substantial  way.  Will  you  not  correspond 
with  me  ? " 

She  gave  her  assent, 

"Letters  from  absent  friends  are  a  very  great  consola- 
tion, and  Hox)e,  you  may  write  to  me  as  you  would  to  a 
brother,  will  you  not  i  If  in  trouble  in  any  way  and  I  can 
be  of  service  to  you,  do  not  scruple  to  let  me  know." 


210  THEN  AND    NOW  ; 

"  You  are  very  kind,"  slie  murmured  ;  "  the  very  kindest 
friend  I  have  in  the  world  except  mother." 

"And,"  said  he,  that  affection  which  he  could  not  wholly 
restrain  from  showing  beaming  in  his  eyes,  "I  want  to  see 
my  little  friend  very,  very  happy." 

His  kindness  completely  overcame  her  usual  self-control. 
The  long  rejDressed  tide  of  emotion  swept  away  by  his 
gentle  sympathy,  she  exclaimed  : 

"  Oh  !  Mr.  Ransom,  I  wish  that  I  could  be  happy  !  I 
think  it  is  a  duty  I  owe  to  my  God  !  I  try  to  be,  but  I  am 
so  far  from  it !  All  my  life  long  I  have  striven  after  some 
object  which  has  ever  eluded  my  grasp ;  my  plans  have 
been  utterly  thwarted,  and  my  life,  so  far,  is  a  complete 
failure!" 

"  Your  life  a  failure  !  No,  no,  Miss  Hope,  my  dear  friend, 
it  is  not  a  failure  !  True,  you  may  not,  so  far,  have  done 
much  in  the  world,  but  during  all  these  years  you  have 
been  storing  up  knowledge — have  been  preparing  yourself 
for  a  noble  mission.  That  you  may  not  be  fortunate,  as 
the  world  counts  fortune,  I  acknowledge  ;  but  is  it  not 
better  to  be  noble,  good  and  true,  than  just  simply  to 
succeed  in  one's  plans,  whether  they  be  right  or  wrong  ? 
Does  not  God  know  all  of  our  ways,  and  will  He  not  order 
them  aright  if  we  will  trust  in  Him  T' 

"Yes,"  she  replied  ;  "  but  it  is  sometimes  very  bitter  to 
be  thwarted  in  every  wish,  to  have  all  of  our  fond  expec- 
tations blasted." 

"Your  name  is  Hope,  and  'hope  is  an  anchor  to  the 
soul;"  will  you  ever  remember  that,  and  try  to  believe 
that,  however  dark  to-day  is,  that  the  future  may  yet  have 
joy  in  store  for  you  ?  " 

"I  will  try,"  was  her  reply;  "but  do  you  know%  Mr. 
Ransom,  that  I  always  imagine  that  you  find  it  so  easy  to 
do  right  that  you  cannot  imagine  how  difficult  a  thing  it  is 
for  one  like  myself  'i  " 


OR  hope's  first  school.  211 

"  That  is  a  mistaken  idea.  My  life  is  one  of  continual 
contiict.  I  liave  '  to  fight  and  keep  my  body  under  sub- 
jection/ just  as  better  men  than  I  have  done.  And  I  have 
my  troubles  and  heartaches,  too ;  but  I  can  then  go  to 
Jesus.  I  liave  no  earthly  friend  in  whom  I  could  confide 
them  all." 

"Not  even  in  meT'  she  inquired. 

"Not  even  in  you,  my  dear  little  friend,  because  it 
might  make  you  unhappy.  I  could  trust  you,  I  do  trust 
you  ;  but  you  shall  never  be  less  happy  on  my  account." 

It  all  seemed  so  strange  to  Hope.  She  had  ever  deemed 
Herbert  a  being  who  scarcely  knew  the  meaning  of  tempta- 
tion ;  who  was  of  so  pure  and  noble  a  nature  that  he  was 
not  tried  as  people  generally  are,  and  therefore  could  not 
sympathize  with  them.  She  now  ascertained  how  far  she 
was  from  the  truth.  Yet  somehow  she  felt  a  kindlier, 
nearer  feeling  for  him  than  she  had  ever  done  before. 

"God  bless  you  !  "  he  exclaimed,  as  he  bade  her  good- 
bye.    "  May  you  be  very,  very  happy  !  " 

She  watched  him  as  he  rode  away  in  tlie  moonlight,  little 
dreaming  of  his  secret,  yet  feeling  very  sad  at  the  thought 
of  so  many  partings.  And  the  morrow  brought  her  others 
almost  as  sad  as  she  started  on  her  homeward  trip. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 


It  may  well  be  sux)l)Osed  that  as  vain  and  selfish  a  girl 
as  Amelia  would  be  suspicious  and  Jealous  of  Rodney's 
attentions   to   any    woman,    and   more   espechilly   if   that 


212  .  THEN    AND   NOW  ; 

woman  was  one  whom  she  had  treated  as  she  had  done 
Hope,  and  who,  judging  by  herself,  she  thought  would 
only  be  too  glad  of  a  chance  to  retaliate.  She  had  noticed 
the  peculiar  expression  of  her  lover's  face  whenever  Hope 
was  mentioned ;  had  observed  the  interest  he  seemed  to 
take  in  her,  and  wisely  surmised  that  he  cherished  for  her 
more  than  ordinary  regard.  He  himself  told  her  of  his 
escorting  Hope  home  from  little  Violet's  funeral,  and  Dr. 
Jones  informed  her  that  Rodney  saw  her  home  from  church 
in  his  place.  She  was  on  fire  with  indignation  ;  she  could 
scarcelj^  control  her  feelings  within  the  bounds  of  ordinary 
politeness  before  her  guests,  and  Rodney's  prolonged 
absence  aroused  her  naturally  jealous  disposition  almost 
to  i)lirenzy.  She  really  had  learned  to  care  more  for  her 
betrothed  than  for  any  of  her  other  admirers,  principally 
because  he  seemed  so  independent  towards  her,  and  this 
preference  for  another  woman  set  her  almost  in  a  fur5^ 
When  Rodney  returned,  the  evening  after  the  storm,  to  his 
mother's,  she  absented  herself  from  the  parlor  for  several 
hours,  thinking  to  pique  hiui  by  her  show  of  indifference. 
But,  to  tell  the  truth,  he  felt  rather  relieved  than  otherwise. 
Had  he  consulted  his  own  inclination  he  would  have  really 
been  haj)l)ier  just  now  to  be  free  from  an  engagement  with 
anyone  ;  but  he  did  not  wish  to  wreck  Amelia's  happiness 
unless  he  could  make  his  own  and  Hope's  by  the  sacrifice. 
He  determined  if  the  latter  would  not  marry  liim  to  keep 
his  engagement  with  his  betrothed  and  make  the  best  of 
it.  He  would  be  miserable,  he  concluded,  whether  married 
or  single,  so  it  did  not  much  matter.  The  absence  of  his 
affianced  for  a  few  hours  was  rather  pleasant  to  him,  for 
his  thoughts  were  so  full  of  his  lost  love  that  it  cost  him  an 
effort  to  be  agreeable  to  anyone.  Instead  of  the  reproach 
which  she  expected  for  her  seeming  indifference,  when  at 
last  she  did  make  her  appearance,  Rodney  made  no  inquiry 
whatever  concerning  her  prolonged  stay  out  of  his  com- 


OR  hope's  first  school.  213 

pany,  and  this  neglect  stung  lier  deeply.  She  was  in  no 
amiable  humor.  Her  vanity  was  wounded — incurably 
wounded ;  and  after  several  ineffectual  attempts  to  appear 
her  natural  self,  she  at  last  abruptly  inquired  : 

"  Why  did  you  not  come  yesterday,  Rodney  \  " 

"  How  could  I,"  he  replied,  "in  such  a  storm  \  " 

"  Where" did  you  go  ?  "  she  inquired. 

"  To  a  farmer's  house— a  Mr,  Wilson.  I  had  to  escort 
Miss  Hope  Caldwell  home,  and  we  were  compelled  to  seek 
shelter  from  the  storm  at  Mr.  Wilson's." 

"That  is  why  you  stayed  so  late  this  morning,"  she  said, 
with  a  mocking  laugh.  "  Well,  Hope  is  right  good  look- 
ing, but  she  has  had  a  bitter  experience.  A  girl  who  has 
been  jilted  never  loves  the  same  again." 

"  Jilted  !     Has  Miss  Caldwell  ever  been. jilted  %  " 

"Yes,  indeed,"  was  her  reply  ;  "she  was  engaged,  to  a 
very  handsome  young  fellow  named  Robert  St.  George. 
Unluckily  for  her  I  visited  her  that  summer,  and  what 
does  her  betrothed  do  but  turn  dunce  and  desert  his 
affianced  wife  for  me.  Honestly,  I  never  encouraged  him, 
and  had  to  discard  him  at  last ;  and  so,  like  the  doc:  in  the 
fable,  he  lost  both  substance  and  shadow." 

"  Merciful  Heaven  !  "  thought  Rodney  ;  "is  there  really 
a  Nemesis  upon  earth  ?  I  could  almost  think  so,  and 
Hope  is  but  little  inferior  to  an  angel.  What  other  woman 
would  not  have  exulted  in  the  thought  of  triumphing  over 
a  rival  who  wrought  such  injury  to  her  happiness?  He 
did  not  fully  believe  what  Amelia  said  about  not  encour- 
aging Robert ;  he  had  seen  too  much  of  her  coquetry  for 
that ;  but  he  did  not  dream  that  she  had  done  so  much  to 
entrap  her  luckless  victim.  In  vain  he  strove  to  be  agree- 
able to  his  betrothed.  His  thoughts  were  always  straying 
after  Hope.  She  seemed  to  him  so  noble,  so  pure,  so  far 
above  all  the  rest  of  the  world.  He  began  to  think  that  it 
would  be  a  sin  to  marry  another  woman,  loving  her  as  he 


214  THEN    AND    NOW 


5 


did,  for  he  felt  sure  that  he  could  never  drive  her  memory 
from  his  mind.  Luckily  Amelia's  jealousy  and  wounded 
self-love  saved  him  from  the  horror  of  a  union  with  her,  as 
well  as  from  the  dishonor  of  forfeiting  his  word  to  a  lady. 
With  an  intention  of  piquing  him,  and  thus  rendering 
him  more  devoted  to  her,  she  commenced  a  flirtation  with 
Dr.  Jones.  Rodney  tacitly  encouraged  it,  and  stung  to  the 
heart  by  his  iudifl'erence,  in  a  fit  of  jealous  rage  she  at  last 
wrote  him  a  lettei'  dissolving  the  engagement  existing 
between  them.  Instead  of  the  pleadings  to  be  reinstated 
in  her  favor,  which  her  unlimited  power  over  the  hearts  of 
many  led  her  to  hope  even  from  him,  she  received  the 
following  lines  in  reply  : 

"  Dear  Miss  Amelia  :  -  Your  letter  is  to  hand.  I  give 
you  back  the  freedom  you  covet  and  give  it  most  cheer- 
fully, as  only  a  regard  for  your  feelings  prevented  me  from 
dissolving  our  engagement  before.  I  have  found  out  my 
own  heart  more  perfecth^  since  we  were  betrothed,  and  am 
convinced  that  I  can  love  another  better,  though  trusting 
that  we  may  continue  the  best  of  friends.  With  kind 
regards,  Yours,  very  truly, 

"  Rodney  Gilbert." 

''Fairy  Dell,  June  16th,  1874." 

"Foiled!  foiled!"  exclaimed  Amelia  to  herself,  when 
she  read  this  missive.  "I  will  lose  the  only  chance  I  ever 
scared  for,  and  Hope  alone  is  to  blame  for  it !  Truly  she 
is  avenged  now  !  " 

As  for  Rodney,  he  was  overjoyed  at  the  turn  which 
affairs  had  taken.  That  day  he  wrote  a  letter  to  Hope  tell- 
ing her  all,  and  beseeching  her  to  give  him  permission  to 
visit  her  at  once.  He  renewed  his  protestations  of  undoing 
attachment  for  her,  and  besought  her  to  be  obdurate  no 
longer,  but  to  make  up  her  mind  to  become  his  wife  at  no 
very  distant  period.  But  days,  weeks  and  months  went 
by   and  no    reply   came.     Weary   and  disheartened,    he 


or^iiopk's  fikst  school.  215 

resolved  to  travel.  Change  of  scene  might  perhaps  benefit 
him.     A  trip  to  the  far  West  was  decided  upon. 

"  It  may  do  you  good,  my  son,"  said  his  mother,  wliom 
he  had  never  made  his  confidant  in  regard  to  his  affection 
for  Hope,  "j^ou  look  wretched.  Amelia  will  have  much  to 
answer  for." 

He  turned  away  with  a  bitter  smile.  It  seemed  so  ridicu- 
lous to  regard  her  as  the  author  of  his  misery.  Yet  what 
more  natural  than  such  a  conclusion'^ 


CHAPTER  XX. 


Though  not  compelled  to  do  so,  our  heroine  decided  lo 
take  the  busy  town  of  Wilmington  on  her  homeward  route. 
She  wished  to  make  some  purchases  for  her  mother,  and 
besides  had  a  desire  to  see  the  place,  which,  though  not 
very  far  from  her  home,  she  had  never  visited.  With  the 
firmness  which  was  a  part  of  her  disposition  she  resolved 
to  bury  the  past,  as  far  as  jDOssible,  to  cast  all  useless  regrets 
aside  and  to  pursue  the  path  of  duty  unflinchingly.  As 
she  had  taken  up  the  profession  of  a  teacher  she  deter- 
mined to  fit  herself  for  it,  to  strive  every  year  to  become 
more  cajiable  of  instructing  the  young,  and  at  the  same 
time  she  did  not  give  up  her  cherished  idea  of  becoming 
an  artist  at  some  period  of  her  life.  Just  now  she  found 
that  her  salary  was  not  sufficient  to  justify  her  to  incur  all 
the  expenses  necessary  for  her  to  take  lessons  in  drawing 
or  painting,  situated  as7she  was.  It  then  occurred  to  her 
that  as  she  had  already  begun  as  a  teacher  she  might  pos- 
sibly secure  a  position  in  a  college  and  have  instruction  in 
her  favorite  studies  in  part  jiayment  for  her  services.  This 
idea   pleased  her   verj^   much,    and    as    she   watched   the 


216  THEN   AND   NOW  ; 

fleeting  panorama  without  while  she  sat  at  the  car  window, 
her  reflections  were  not  all  tinged  with  gloom,  although  a 
pang  shot  through  her  heart  whenever  she  thought  of 
Rodney,  for  she  felt  that  neither  time,  distance  nor 
absence  could  eA-er  eradicate  his  image  from  her  memory. 
She  strove,  though,  to  think  on  her  blessings,  on  her 
exemption  from  physical  pain,  on  her  youth,  on  the  kind- 
ness received  from  friends,  on  the  joy  of  her  mother  at 
seeing  her  again,  and  she  felt  thankful  to  God  for  all  of 
His  mercies.  Who,  after  all,  can  truly  say  that  they  have 
no  cause  to  be  grateful  i  Her  fellow  passengers  were  not 
numerous,  yet  even  some  of  them  were  well  calculated  to 
teach  her  a  lesson  of  gratitude.  An  old  man  sat  immedi- 
ately in  front  of  her,  who  seemed  tottering  on  the  very 
verge  of  the  grave,  and  the  hacking  cough  he  had  beto- 
kened but  too  truly  that  even  the  few  days  remaining  to 
him  would  not  be  exempt  from  pain  and  weariness.  A 
mother  with  a  sick  infant  lying  on  a  pillow  in  her  lap 
occupied  another  seat,  her  pale,  anxious  features  a  sure 
index  to  her  state,  both  of  mind  and  body.  A  young  man 
who  walked  on  crutches  was  another  occupant  of  the  car. 
Toward  all  these  Hope  felt  an  unbidden  sympathy  spring 
up  in  her  breast,  and  involuntarily  contrasted  her  condi- 
tion  with  that  of  each  of  them,  and  found  the  balance  of 
blessings  largely  in  her  favor.  It  was  a  noisy,  busy  crowd 
that  surrounded  the  depot  at  Wilmington,  and  she  was 
glad  to  be  well  away  from  it  in  a  hack  en  route  to  her 
boarding-house.  Once  there  she  felt  more  at  ease.  It  was 
kept  by  a  lady,  whose  kind,  motherly  ways  made  Hope 
feel  at  home  in  a  remarkably  short  time.  The  scene  with- 
out was  pleasing  to  her  ej^es,  unaccustomed  as  she  was  to 
the  city.  The  lighted  streets  and  shops,  the  crowds  on  the 
sidewalks,  the  noisy  vehicles  forever  passing,  had  all  the 
charm  of  novelty  for  her.  She  had  stayed  at  home  so 
closely,  had  seen  so  little  of  the  great  world.     She  did  not 


OR    IIOPK  S    FIKST   SCHOOL.  217 

fall  asleep  until  a  late  hour  that  night,  but  sat  at  her 
window,  listening  to  the  practice  of  some  amateur  musi- 
cians. The  next  morning  she  amused  herself  watching  the 
scene  below  her  window.  Carts  were  backed  up  against 
the  sidewalk  filled  with  early  fruits,  vegetables,  poultry, 
eggs,  etc.,  and  around  these  were  gathered  an  eager,  curi- 
ous, trafhcing  crowd.  Men  and  women,  both  white  and 
colored,  were  coming  and  going  with  market  baskets  on 
their  arms,  either  filled  or  destined  to  be  filled  with  the 
contents  of  the  aforesaid  carts.  The  purchasers  examined 
the  articles  sold  "with  a  critic's  eye,'  taking  them  in  their 
hands  and  striving  to  get  as  much  value  for  as  little  money 
as  they  could,  while  the  same  spirit  was  manifest  in  the 
sellers  of  getting  as  much  as  possible  for  their  goods.  For 
fully  an  hour  Hope  watched  them,  until  the  breakfast  bell 
called  her  from  the  window.  After  breakfast  she  walked 
down  the  street  to  do  some  shopping.  The  scene  was  a 
lively  one  on  this  especial  occasion.  It  was  a  holiday — 
the  anniversary  of  the  nation's  independence,  and  most  of 
the  stores  would  be  closed  after  the  early  morning,  and  the 
hurrying  crowd  on  the  sidewalks  seemed  disposed  to  make 
the  best  of  the  day.  Many  of  them  were  off  for  an  excur- 
sion down  the  river.  The  large  steamer  near  the  wharf 
was  already  in  waiting  for  tbem,  and  as,  with  eager  looks 
and  impatient  feet  they  hurried  thither,  they  formed  an 
interesting  spectacle  to  our  countrj^  friend.  Vehicles  laden 
with  merry  x>ai'ties  were  dashing  by,  going  out  in  the 
country  to  eat  their  lunch  among  the  beauties  of  nature. 
The  river  rijipled  and  glittered  in  the  sunlight,  the  little 
boats  skimmed  the  silvery  water  like  things  of  life,  the 
vessels,  with  their  tall  masts  motionless  against  the  back- 
ground of  the  deep  blue  sky,  reminded  Ilox^e  of  pictures 
she  had  seen,  and  every  surrounding  filled  her  excitable 
temperament  with  pleasure.  Her  vivid  imagination  invested 
every  object  with  a  x^eculiar  charm.     '' Here  are  vessels,'' 


218  THEN   AND    NOW 


5 


slie  thought  to  herself,  "from  far  distant  lands,  which 
probably  I  shall  never  see.  Could  they  speak  what  tales 
they  would  tell,  what  recitals  of  danger  and  distress,  yet 
ot  storms  outridden  at  last,  and  of  ports  safely  gained ! 
Can  1  not  learn  a  useful  lesson  from  them — a  lesson  to  give 
me  faith  and  coiirage  to  encounter  the  trials  of  life,  know- 
ing that  after  all  is  over  I  shall  anchor  safely  at  last  in  the 
wished-for  haven?"  The  sailors  climbing  the  lofty  masts 
enlisted  her  warmest  sympathy.  "Poor  fellows!"  she 
thought,  "  rough,  reckless,  sinful,  uncared  for  as  they  are, 
yet  how  necessary  to  the  well-being  of  the  world  are  they  ! 
for  where  would  art,  science,  progress,  education — where 
would  religion  itself  be  without  the  aid  of  the  common 
sailor  in  diffusing  them?"  Thus  she  reflected  as  from  a 
little  rise  she  watched  the  busy  scene  at  the  river. 

Hope's  trip  home  was  almost  devoid  of  interest  for  the 
remainder  of  the  way.  The  captain  of  the  boat  on  which 
she  travelled  was  kind  and  gentlemanly,  her  cabin  reason- 
ably comfortable,  and  the  thought  of  seeing  her  mother 
would  have  rendered  her  IndifTerent  to  her  surroundings 
had  such  not  been  the  case.  She  found  ever^^thing  at  home 
jogging  along  as  usual,  and  for  a  few  days  the  intense  joy 
of  being  once  more  there  and  with  her  truest  earthly  friend, 
stilled  the  regretful  feelings  which  would  obtrude  upon 
her  at  times,  in  spite  of  her  every  effort  to  repress  them. 
But  as  weeks  elapsed  and  her  life  settled  into  the  old 
grooves  once  more,  the  thought  of  Rodney  Gilbert  came 
back.  She  did  not  give  way  to  melancholy,  she  was  too 
brave  and  strong  for  that;  but  her  earthly  joy  had  fled. 
Her  lover  haunted  even  her  dreams  ;  with  him  "the  desert 
would  rejoice  and  blossom  as  the  rose;"  without  him  the 
world  was  an  utter  blank,  so  far  as  happiness,  but  not 
so  far  as  dut}^  was  concerned.  Though  her  heart  ached 
with  the  burden  of  its  loneliness,  she  went  steadily  on  in 
her  dreary  path,  negh'cting  no  task  that  devolved  upon 


OK  hope's  first  sciioor..  219 

lier,  avoiding  no  cross  that  God  saw  fit  to  lay  upon  her 
shoulders.  Neither  did  she  forget  her  i)lans  for  the  future. 
She  secured  a  position  in  a  high  school  to  be  opened  in  the 
fall,  and  already  saw  a  prospect  of  realizing  lier  youthful 
dreams,  when,  as  if  God  intended  to  try  her  in  tlie  very 
furnace  of  affliction,  Mrs.  Caldwell  was  taken  very  ill  and 
for  months  hovered  on  the  verge  of  the  grave.  Of  course 
she  had  to  resign  her  place,  and  when  again  she  had  the 
happiness  of  beholding  her  mother  restored  to  health  she 
saw  no  prospect  of  at  once  securing  such  a  situation  as  she 
desired.  The  weeks  and  montlis  dragged  along,  and  some- 
times it  seemed  to  her  that  she  could  not  live  without 
seeing  Rodney  or  hearing  from  him.  Herbert  Ransom 
wrote  to  her  occasionally,  and  once  mentioned  his  friend, 
stating  that  he  had  gone  oft'  to  California.  That  was  all 
the  tidings  of  him  she  had  ever  gained.  One  day,  several 
months  after  her  return  home,  she  called  at  tli3  postoffice 
as  she  was  on  her  way  to  visit  a  sick  neighbor  : 

"Miss  Hope,"  said  the  postmaster,  "you  must  really 
excuse  me,  but  here  is  a  letter  for  you  which,  by  some 
unaccountable  means,  got  misplaced  several  months  ago, 
and  has  just  come  to  light.  I  hope  it  is  not  of  much 
importance." 

■  She  glanced  at  the  superscrii:)tion  ;  her  face  turned  red 
and  pale  by  turns  ;  she  murmured  some  inarticulate  words 
and  left  the  store.  The  letter  was  the  one  which  we  have 
already  referred  to,  from  Rodney,  informing  her  of  his 
being  honorably  free  from  the  ties  which  bound  him  to 
Amelia,  and  of  his  wish  for  her  to  become  his  wife  at  an 
early  period.  It  was  dated  just  three  weeks  from  the  time 
when  she  had  left  Mr.  Watkins'.  Once  to  herself  she  tore 
open  the  envelope,  devoured  the  contents  of  the  missive, 
then  burst  into  a  flood  of  bitter  tears  : 

"  Too  late  !  too  late  !  "  How  mournfully  did  these  words 
ring  in  her  ears  !     ''  Oh,  merciful  Heaven  !  "  she  exclaimed. 


220  THEN   ANB   NOW  ; 

"how  sad  to  think  of  a  lifetime  of  happiness  llnng  awaj^ 
by  one  act  of  carelessness  I     It  would  not  do  to  write  to 
Rodney  now  ;  he  might  be  married  or  dead,  and  even  were 
he  alive  and  single,  she  did  not  know  where  to  direct  her 
letter.     She  had  deemed  herself  unhappy  before,  but  never 
had  she  suffered  such  exquisite  mental  anguish  as  now. 
She  was  at  least  calmly  despairing  before  ;  now  the  conflict 
between  hope  and  fear  was  almost  more  than  she  could 
bear.     She   and  Herbert   still   corresponded.     She   deter- 
mined to  make  some  casual  inquiry  after  Rodney.     She 
did  so,  and  after  sometime  received  an   answer  informing 
her  that  Rodney  was  still  in  the  West  and  was  unmarried. 
Then  she  resolved  to  fold  her  hands  and  trust  in  God  for 
the  future.     Soon  after  receiving  her  letter  from  Herbert 
she  had  occasion  to  visit  the  town   of    whicli   we   have 
already  spoken.    While  she  was  there  a  distinguished  gen- 
tleman was  to  lecture,  and  a  young  lawyer  of  her  acquaint- 
ance offered  to  escort  her  to  the  hall  where  the  lecture  was 
to  come  off.     AVhile  they  were  there  a  gentleman  and  lady 
came  up  the  aisle  and  took  the  seat  in  front  of  her.     One 
glance  at  the  gentleman's  face  and  she  recognized  Rodney  ! 
Her  heart  seemed  to  stand  suddenly  still,  then  beat  so  fast 
and  strong  as  to  be  positively  stilling  ;  the  color  came  and 
went  in  her  cheeks,  and  her  hands  trembled.     Anxious  to 
avoid  the  notice  of  others,  she  toyed  nervously  witli  her 
fan,  and  after  awhile  to  some  extent  recovered  her  equa- 
nimity ;  but  she  never  could  tell  what  the  lecturer  said  that 
night.     Her  escort,  who  tried  to  be  entertaining,  thouglit 
her  very  absent-minded,  whicli  was  quite  a  just  conclusion. 
As  they  were  going  out  of  the  house  Rodney  chanced  to 
turn  and  saw  her.     He  bowed  courteously,  but  coldh?-,  and 
passed  on.     Her  heart  turned  sick  and  faint,   and  through 
the  long  hours  of  the  night  she  could  not  sleep.     The  next 
morning,  while  in  her  room  at  the  house  of  a  friend,  whose 
acquaintance  she  had  but  latel)'  formed,  but  who  was  a 


on  iioi'k's  fiijst  soiiool.  221 

ver}^  dear  friend  notwithstanding,   a  card  was  brouglit  to 
her,  bearing  the  familiar  name,  "  Rodney  Gilbert.'' 

"'  The  gentleman  is  in  the  parlor,"  said  the  bearer. 

She  gave  a  linishiug  touch  to  her  toilet  and  descended  to 
the  parlor.  Rodney  was  its  only  occupant.  He  shook 
hands  with  her  cordially,  and  after  they  were  seated  made 
some  common-place  inquiries  in  regard  to  her  own  health 
and  that  of  her  mother's,  of  how  she  had  been  enjoying 
herself,  etc.  By  a  strange  stroke  of  Fate  Hope  had  his 
letter  in  her  pocket,  and  as  she  drew  her  handkerchief 
therefrom  the  letter  came  with  it.  Rodney  stooped  to  pick 
it  up,  glanced  at  the  direction,  and  returned  it  to  her. 
Tlieir  eyes  met — a  reproachful  glance  in  his;  in  her's  an 
expression  of  bashfulness,  of  hope  and  of  fear  combined. 
The  faces  of  both  turned  crimson  : 

''  I  received  this  just  a  week  ago,"  she  explained.  "  It 
had  been  misplaced  for  months  at  the  postoffice." 

Her  regretful  countenance  betrayed  her  and  gave  him 
courage  to  sa}'  : 

"Is  it  possible,  Hope,  that  I,  perhaps  you,  too,  have 
endured  months  of  misery  from  a  tritling  mischance  *" 

"If  that  is  all  we  need  not  care  so  much,"  was  her 
reply. 

"It  is  all  unless  you  continue  obdnrate,  unless  j^ou  still 
have  scruples  about  marrying  me.  I  have  trampled  down 
pride,  almost  self-respect,  in  pa3dng  you  this  visit  after 
your  seeming  neglect  to  notice  my  letter.  Darling,  can 
you  not  reward  me  for  it  I  Can  you  not  give  me  your 
heart  and  hand  (  I  have  waited  so  long,  so  hopelessl}" ;  I 
am  so  utterly  miserable  without  you.  The  world  is  a  deso- 
late wilderness  to  me  uncheered  by  your  presence.  Oh  ! 
m}'  precious  lov»',  the  time  that  we  have  been  sepaiated  is 
siirel}'  enough  of  sorrow  for  one  lifetime.  Let  tliere  be  no 
more  absence,  no  more  misunderstandings,  no  more  sorrow, 
unless  such  as  we  can  share  together.     'The  time  past  of 


222  THEN   AND   NOW  I 


our  life  is  sufficient  for  us'  to  have  been  apart.  Hand  in 
hand  let  us  now  tread  life's  i^athway,  whether  it  be  strewn 
with  flowers  or  be  thick  with  thorns.  With  you  for  my 
companion  I  ask  no  more  of  this  world.  I  can  then  say  I 
am  content.  Be  my  own  dear  wife,  Hope,  and  make  me 
happy." 

"What  need  to  give  her  answer'^  What  need  to 
tell  the  i^erfect  bliss  of  these  two  hearts,  already  linked 
together  by  deep,  abiding,  mutual  affection?  They  talked 
on  for  sometime,  loth  to  part  from  each  other  ;  and  when 
he  left  Rodney  drew  her  to  him  in  a  close  embrace, 
imprinting  a  kiss  on  lips  now  all  his  own,  and  both  felt  that 
in  all  their  future  lives  there  would  never  come  to  either  a 
happier  hour  than  this  of  their  betrothal. 


CHAPTER  XXI. 


Eight  years  have  passed  away  since  we  first  saw  Hope 
Caldwell  and  Rodney,  and  we  wish  to  take  a  last  look  at 
both  ere  bidding  them  an  eternal  farewell.  We  saw  them 
as  they  Were  then;  we  will  view  them  as  they  are  now. 
For  a  little  over  six  5^ears  they  have  been  married,  and 
during  that  time  have  enjoyed  as  perfect  happiness  as  falls 
to  the  lot  of  any  here  below.  Blessed  with  flne  health, 
abundant  means,  mutual  love  and  an  abiding  sense  of 
gratitude  to  God  within  their  hearts,  how  could  they  be 
otherwise  than  happy '^  Under  Hope's  influence  Rodney 
has  done  much  good  in  the  community  where  he  resides. 
In  particular  has  she  interested  him  in  behalf  of  the  cause 
of  education  ;  they  have  both  given  time  and  means  and 
effort  in  behalf  of  that  cause.  Yet  not  much  of  their 
married  life  has  been  spent  at  home.     They  have  lived  a 


OK   hope's   FIRST   SCHOOL.  223 

part  of  their  time  in  New  York,  a  part  in  Enrox)e,  and  only 
a  small  portion  of  it,  so  far,   in   the  neighborhood  where 
Hope  once  taught.     She  went  to  the  Centennial  with  her 
husband,  and  the  master-piece  which  she  saw  there  dis- 
cournged  her  no  little  in  her  aspirations  to  become  an  artist. 
Her  own  feeble  efforts  seemed  to  fall  so  infinitely  below 
tliein.     But   believing    that   we    are    responsible   for   the 
improvement  of  even  one  talent,  she  continued  to  devote 
much  of  her  leisure  time  to  her  former  absorbing  avoca- 
tion.    Rodney  gave  her  every  advantage  in  this  respect, 
for  he  was  proud  of  her  talent,  and  delighted  to  indulge 
her  every  wisli  ;  he  secured  the  best  masters  for  her,  and 
they  resided  at  Rome  sometime,  in  order  to  perfect  her 
training,  by  beholding  for  herself  the  innumerable  works 
of  the  great  masters  day  after  day.     Of  course   she   has 
improved  very  much,  and  her  paintings  command   their 
price,  though  still  falling  far  below  her  ideal.     The  money 
obtained   by   the   sale  of  them   she   has   so   far   devoted 
strictly  to  charity,  bestowing  it  where  she  deemed  it  would 
effect  the  most  good.     Neither  wealth,  nor  the  society  of 
the  most  intelligent  and  refined  people,  nor  the  flatteries  of 
the  great  and  renowned,  has  weaned  her  heart  from  the 
deep  and  abiding  interest  which  she  takes  in  every  jioor, 
struggling  soul  laboring  to   break   the  shackles  of  igno- 
rance.    Her  one  session  of  teaching  invested  all  childhood 
with  an  enduring  charm  to  her.     Unspoiled  by  the  world, 
she  inirsues  her  useful  course,   perfectly  content  in  per- 
forming her  duties  and  in  the  sunshine  of  her  husband's 
love.     As  for  Rodney,  he  is  scarcely  like  the  same  i)erson 
that  he  once  was,  so  genial  and  pleasant  are  his  manners, 
so  free  from  all  bitterness  and  so  hopeful  of  the  future  is 
he.    Perhaps  he  is  not  the  only  man  whose  wife  is  the  main- 
spring of  both  his  usefulness  and  of  his  happiness.     On 
this,  the  last  time  that  we  ever  expected  to  behold  them, 
the}'  were  on  a  visit  to  Tiadeville.     Hope  wished  to  visit 


224  THEN    AND    NOW  : 


the  place,  thongli  her  mother  no  longer  resided  there. 
Rodney's  home  sheltered  lier  now,  his  own  mother  having 
departed  this  life  two  years  ago.  Mary  stayed  with  her 
during  the  absence  of  Hope  and  her  husband.  On  the 
last  evening  of  their  visit  to  Tradeville  Rodney  proposed 
a  walk  to  the  river,  'ihe  bridge  very  naturally  suggested 
itself  to  their  minds  as  atitting  place  to  take  their  last  look 
at  the  waters  which  it  spanned  and  on  the  village  near  by. 
Standing  upon  it  as  she  had  done  eight  years  ago,  and  true 
to  her  childish  nature  yet,  Hope  threw  sticks  and  pebbles 
into  the  water  and  watched  them  as  thej^  were  borne  away 
upon  its  bosom. 

"I  wonder  if  30U  will  always  be  a  child,  Hope  ?"  said 
her  husband.  But  his  smile  was  as  fond  as  it  had  been 
while  standing  on  the  banks  of  tlie  little  stream  the  first 
evening  he  had  ever  told  her  of  his  love. 

"Yes,"  was  her  reply  ;  "  I  hope  so.  But  do  you  know, 
Rodney,  that  these  poor  sticks  Hoating  down  the  current 
put  very  serious  thoughts  into  my  head.  They  remind  me 
of  ourselves,  floating  down  the  stream  of  time,  carried 
onward,  onward,  until  we  reach  the  ocean  of  eternity. 
Then  again,  I  compare  them  to  poor,  tempted  creatures, 
who,  when  once  they  begin  to  drift  down  stream,  never 
come  back,  and  are  at  last  utterly  lost.  Do  you  know  that 
I  feel  sorry  for  the  very  worst  of  sinners  ?  Just  think  of 
the  temptations  in  the  way,  and  consider  the  weakness  of 
human  nature  ;  then,  too,  so  many  children  have  no  one  to 
teach  them  the  riglit  wav." 

CD  V 

"  You  are  alwa3^s  kind,  my  darling.  That  is  why  I  first 
came  to  love  you,  I  ex^ct,  instead  of  Amelia,  with  her 
fascinations." 

"  Poor  Amelia  !  "  exclaimed  Hope.  "I  do  not  envy  her, 
with  all  of  her  charms.  I  know  that  she  is  not  half  so 
happy  as  I  am." 

"  Nor  does  she  deserve  to  be,"  returned  he  ;  "she  is  too 


OR   HOPE  S   FIRST   SCHOOL.  225 

utterly  heartless  to  be  a  good  wife  for  any  one,  and  will 
possibly  end  her  days  as  a  faded-out  belle,  or  marry  some 
poor  wretch  for  his  money.  I  shudder  to  think  of  how 
near  I  came  to  being  her  husband." 

"God  is  very  good,"  murmured  Hope.  "His  kind 
providence  brought  us  together  and  made  us  happy  ;  but 
Rodney,  not  even  with  your  precious  love  and  companion- 
ship, not  even  with  all  the  comforts  of  our  pleasant  home, 
am  1  perfectly  content,  unless  I  could  see  others  happy,  I 
do  so  long  to  see  the  great  cause  of  education — education 
both  of  the  intellect  and  of  the  heart,  pervade  the  length 
and  breadth  of  this,  my  dear  native  State." 

"And  I  trust  that  your  wishes  are  true  prophets,  my 
love.  It  is  true  that  as  yet  statistics  do  not  prove  that 
numerically,  at  least,  the  noble  cause  has  gained  ground 
during  the  last  few  years,  yet  what  conclusion  more  reason- 
able to  come  to  than  that,  with  Normal  Schools  established 
in  various  places  for  the  preparation  of  teachers  in  order  to 
render  them  more  efficient  ;  with  Graded  Schools  in  many 
of  the  towns,  with  new  and  improved  methods  of  teaching, 
and  with  a  uniform  system  of  text-books  recommended  by 
the  Legislature,  North  Carolina  is  destined  to  a  bright  and 
glorious  future  in  regard  to  education,  and  with  that,  in 
regard  to  everj^thing  that  pertains  to  her  best  interests 
Eight  years  ago  there  were  none  of  these  improvements. 
Of  course  there  were  many  good  and  faithful  instructors 
and  many  fine  schools,  but  the  majority  of  what  might  be 
termed  'neighborhood  schools'  in  the  countrj^  were  con- 
ducted on  no  fixed  plan  whatever.  Each  teacher  had  his 
own  way  of  teaching  and  his  own  favorite  text-books,  and 
as  each  school  changed  its  teacher  quite  often,  this  fact 
acted  much  against  the  progress  of  a  pupil.  A  child  who 
attends  school  some  four  or  five  months  this  yeai-,  and  is 
then  taken  home  to  work  in  the  crop,  and  who  perchance 
studies  under  a  dozen  dift'erent  teachers  during  his  school 


226  THEN    AND  NOW  ; 

life,  each  employing  a  different  method  of  instruction, 
perhaps  each  preferring  different  books,  such  a  child,  I  say, 
must  be  a  marvel  of  talent  and  industry  if  he  gains  a 
thorough  understanding  even  of  mere  rudiments.  Yet  in 
the  country  a  few  years  ago  this  was  the  ordinary  way  of 
acquiring  an  education  for  all  except  the  most  favored. 
Now,  I  believe,  there  is  decidedly  an  upward  tendency. 
Normal  Schools  have  done  much  for  the  Old  North  State. 
They  have  opened  the  eyes  of  teachers  to  their  own  short- 
comings, and  the  latter  have  set  to  work  with  a  zeal  and 
interest  in  their  calling  hitherto  unthought  of.  Then,  too, 
though  there  will  always  be  shades  of  difference  in  different 
individuals,  yet  in  the  methods  of  instruction  much 
greater  uniformity  may  reasonably  be  expected  than  in  the 
past.  Teachers'  Institutes  will,  to  some  extent,  effect  this 
object.  In  short,  though  we  still  fall  very  far  below  per- 
fection, yet  I  believe  our  now  is  better  than  our  tlien  of  a 
few  years  back,  and  I  trust  that  our  future  will  be  propor- 
tionately brighter.  Of  one  thing  I  feel  sure,  that,  take  the 
State  as  a  unit,  and  the  people  in  a  body,  and  there  is  no 
better  place  to  live  in,  nor  people  to  dwell  among  than  the 
State  and  the  people  who  have  hitherto  been  neglectful  of 
their  own  true  interests." 

"Yes,"  she  said,  with  eyes  suffused  with  tears  of  deep 
emotion  ;  "yet  I  hope  to  see  the  day  when  the  intelligence 
and  enterprise  of  its  people  shall  place  it  far,  very  far 
ahead  of  where  it  now  stands,  when  its  grand  natural 
resources,  both  of  intellectual  and  of  material  wealth,  may 
be  fully  developed.  The  right  kind  of  education  can 
alone  effect  this,  and  that  is  now  accessible  to  all.  But 
Rodney,  there  is  one  agent  of  good  which  is  perfectly 
accessible  to  our  people  which  is  yet  thought  too  lightly 
of,  in  the  country  more  especially.  Sunday-schools  might 
flourish  all  the  time  with  but  little  expense  or  trouble,  and 
no  one  surely  will  deny  that  they  do  great  good  when 


OR  hope's  first  school.  227 

properly  conducted.  Not  ten  miles  from  here  is  one, 
which,  by  the  perseverance  and  constancy  of  one  man,  has 
been  sustained  for  twenty  years.  He  is  seldom,  if  ever, 
absent  from  his  post,  or  if  so,  has  some  one  to  supply  his 
place,  and  his  efforts  have  been  the  means  of  giving  some 
children  nearly  all  of  the  education  which  they  i)ossess. 
A  grateful  neighborhood  should  award  him  all  due 
i:)raise." 

"Yet  his  scholars,  I  suppose,  will  be  his  'crown  of 
rejoicing  ? ' '" 

"  I  judge  so,  for  I  never  felt  more  grateful  to  God  in  my 
life  for  my  having  once  been  a  teacher  than  when  I  saw 
David  AVheeler  stand  in  the  pulpit  and  heard  him  preach 
the  'unsearchable  riches  of  Christ,'  and  when  I  knew,  too, 
that  soon  he  expected  to  spread  the  glad  tidings  in  heathen 
lands.  Though  his  school  life  with  me  was  a  short  one, 
yet  I  fondly  hoped  that  perchance  I  heli)ed  sow  some  good 
seeds  in  his  heart,  which  are  thus  yielding  a  rich  harvest." 

"I  did  not  tell  you,  Hope,  that  I  saw  Greorge  Simmons 
last  week  in  Raleigh,  when  I  was  there." 

"No  ;  how  is  he  (!" 

"He  is  well  and  is  carrying  on  a  pros^oerous  business. 
He  was  out  riding,  when  I  saw  him,  in  a  fine  phaeton 
drawn  by  a  span  of  horses,  and  was  in  company  with  a 
lovely  girl.  Of  course  he  is  not  a  handsome  young  man, 
yet  you  would  be  surjirised.  at  the  improvement  in  his 
looks.  His  manners,  too,  are  very  easy  and  pleasant ;  and 
better  than  all,  he  enjoys  a  most  enviable  reputation. 
Tom,  he  told  me,  was  staying  on  the  farm.  He  is  married, 
and  now  takes  care  both  of  wife  and  mother,  and  is,  I 
judge  from  what  Gfeorge  told  me,  getting  on  very  well. 
The  latter  inquired,  particularly  after  you." 

"  It  has  been  sometime  since  I  have  seen  my  old  scholars, 
and.  you  did  not  give  me  much  information  in  regard  to 
them  or  to  my  old  acquaintances  when  you  returned  from 


228  THEN    AND    NOW  ; 

your  last  trip  home,  and  I  was  thinking  too  much  of  mother 
to  inquire  about  others  just  then." 

"  Did  I  not  ?  Then  I  will  make  amends  now.  First  and 
foremost,  my  old  sweetheart,  Mrs.  Leonard,  and  Herbert 
Ransom  are  to  be  married  very  soon." 

'*  Is  it  possible  !  how  long  has  it  been  since  her  husband 
got  killed?" 

"Three  years  ago,  and  if  I  was  left  to  judge  I  should 
say  that  it  would  have  been  better  for  her  and  for  the  com- 
munity at  large  had  his  horse  thrown  him  ten  years  before." 

"  We  must  not  judge,  Rodney,  it  seems  to  me  that  even 
the  worst  of  sinners  are  entitled  to  their  short  day  of 
grace." 

"Well,  at  any  rate,  poor  Mary  is  suited  now.  I  used  to 
be  awfully  jealous  of  Herbert  when  he  was  pajnng  atten- 
tion to  you." 

"  Well,  your  jealousy  was  utterly  without  reason.  We 
were  the  best  of  friends,  but  nothing  more," 

"  As  I  trust  you  will  ever  be.  It  would  grieve  me  to  see 
you  otherwise,  for  I  can  truly  say  that  he  was  one  of  the 
best  friends  that  I  ever  had.  I  shall  always  feel  grateful 
to  him  for  kind  words  sjioken  in  my  behalf,  when  the  rest 
of  the  world  was  against  me.  Thanks  to  his  influence  and 
your  own,  I  think  that  Johnnie  Twining  will  now  do  well. 
His  father  and  mother  are  now  useful  members  of  society. 
The  Tyler  children  are  getting  on  exceedingly  well. 
They  travel  around  in  fine  style,  andEuphemia  and  Octavia 
can  both  perform  nicely  on  the  organ.  I  expect  their  good 
old  aunt  is  perfectly  contented." 

"lam  so  glad!"  she  exclaimed ;  "though  I  own  that 
I  did  not  think  when  I  commenced  teaching  school  and  got 
my  first  message  from  Miss  Rachel  that  I  ever  would  like 
her." 

"  The  Hartwell  girls,  how  are  they  prospering  ?" 

"They  are  married  to  hard-working  farmers,   and  are 


OR  hope's  first  school.  229 

leeding  the  life  of  the  average  farmer's  wife  in  this  country. 
The  two  Stuart  girls  have  lately  married — one  to  Willie 
Stuart,  the  other  to  Dr.  Jones.  Robert  King  is  farming, 
and  is,  I  believe,  getting  on  right  well.  The  Watkins  chil- 
dren are  all  i)rospering.  They  are  intelligent,  too.  Not 
all  the  good  seed  which  you  might  attempt  to  sow  in  the 
hearts  of  Joe  and  Sam  Liggins  could  live  unchoked  by  the 
seeds  of  evil  example  and  evil  training  at  their  own  homes. 
Poor  fellows  !  they  are  rowdy,  drinking  men  like  their 
unfortunate  father.  Estelle  Moran  and  a  Mr.  Hamilton 
married  just  three  weeks  ago.  Daniel  Young  is  still 
single.  As  for  Mrs.  Turnnage,  Mrs.  Ambler,  Mrs.  Powers, 
Mrs.  Hunter  and  their  children,  they  are  all  prett}'-  much 
as  they  w^ere  when  you  last  saw  them.  The  children  have 
had  advantages  and  have  improved  them  ;  but  time  alone 
will  develop  their  individual  character.  The  education  of 
the  intellect  does  not  always  make  the  individual  character 
better  or  w^orse." 

"Well,  I  suppose  that  I  will  see  them  all  before  long, 
but  I  will  never  behold  a  dearer  spot  than  this  bridge.  Not 
the  '  bridge  of  sighs,'  in  Venice  ;  not  the  bridge  at  London  ; 
not  one  of  those  whose  memory  is  linked  with  grand  old 
historic  associations  is  half  ss  dear  so  this  one." 

"  Why,  my  little  wife,  did  you  and  a  former  lover  ever 
plight  your  vows  here?"  he  inquired,  smilingly  confident 
of  having  his  question  negatived. 

"No,  indeed,"  she  replied  (looking  into  the  eyes  which 
always  seemed  so  beautiful  to  her),  but  here  I  used  to  stand 
and  dream  as  I  watched  the  river  in  its  ceaseless  liow.  I 
used  to  say  to  myself  'I  shall  never  love  again  ;  ambition 
must  take  the  place  of  all  tender  feeling  in  my  heart.  At 
its  shrine  I  will  lay  down  even  my  life,  if  necessary-,  and 
when  I  am  resting  peacefull}'^  beneath  the  daisies,  when 
earthl}'  pain  and  earthly  joy  are  alike  unfelt  by  me,  happy 
girls,  leaning  on  the  arms  of  loved  ones,  shall  survey  the 


230  THEN   AND   NOW  ; 

scenes  whicli  my  hand  lias  portrayed,  and  exclaim  :  "  Oil ! 
that  I  had  her  talent !  "  little  dreaming  that  it  was  at  once 
my  blessing  and  my  curse,  as  the  j)ossession  of  talent  is  so 
apt  to  prove !" 

"Tell  me,  Hope."  Rodney  exclaimed  excitedl}^  "if 
your  choice  lay  between  my  love  and  gratiiied  ambition, 
which  would  you  take?  " 

"  Which  would  I  take?"  she  answered,  in  tones  bur- 
dened with  tenderness,  as  she  smiled  in  her  husband's 
face ;  ' '  ask  rather  which  would  I  choose,  life  or  death  ? 
It  would  be  the  death  of  all  my  earthly  happiness  to  be 
deprived  of  your  love  ;  it  would  not  affect  it  in  the  least 
if  I  were  utterly  unknown  to  the  world.  T  will  say,  as  you 
once  said  to  me  :     '  You  are  my  world ! '  " 

"  Do  you  know,"  said  he,  "I  have  sometimes  thought 
that  a  man  run^a  great  risk  in  marrying  a  talented  and 
ambitious  woman  ;  but  I  see  now  that  I  was  in  error,  pro- 
vided a  true  woman's  heart  beat  in  her  bosom." 

"Yes,  I  supx:)Ose  so,"  she  replied  abstractedly;  "but 
let  me  finish  telling  you  wlij^  this  bridge  is  so  dear  to  me." 

"  Proceed  ;  I  am  all  attention." 

"I  was  standing  here  eight  years  ago,  when  I  saw  the 
mail  coming— the  same  mail  which  brought  my  letter  from 
Mr.  AVatkins.  That  letter  led  to  our  acquaintanceship. 
Every  circumstance  connected  with  that  is  precious  tome." 

"Hope's  tirst  school  was  destined  to  be  her  last,"  he 
smilingly  remarked. 

"Yes,  and  though  I  did  mj^  best  I  am  glad  for  the  sake 
of  others  that  it  was  my  last.  I  think  one  main  reason 
why  there  has  been,  and  still  is,  so  much  ignorance  in  our 
land,  is  on  account  of  the  teachers  being  so  deficient." 

"  Well,  I  cannot  blame  you  for  the  interest  you  take  in 
the  education  of  the  young,  and  when  we  go  home  you 
have  my  free  and  full  permission  to  do  all  you  can  in  our 
neighborhood  in  behalf  of  the  noble  cause.     But,  darling, 


OR  hope's  first  school.  231 

look  your  last  on  yonr  favorite  spot,  for  we  must  go  now. 
Some  clay,  perhaps,  we  may  return  ;  but  not  soon.  Some 
day,  perhaps,  Tradeville  will  be  a  town,  connected  with 
others  by  railroads,  and  there  will  be  schools,  churches, 
factories  and  many  improvements  here.  Then  maybe  we 
will  visit  it  aft'ain,  but  not  before." 

'Twas  thus  Rodney  spoke,  and  for  a  few  brief  moments 
she  gazed  at  the  scene,  so  like  it  had  appeared  to  her  sight 
years  ago.  Memory  recalled  all  the  joys  and  sorrows  of 
that  period,  and  tears  of  happiness  tilled  her  eyes  as  she 
thought  of  them.  The  sun  had  set  ;  one  single  star 
gleamed  in  the  sky  ;  twilight  was  gathering  around  them. 
The  sky  with  its  single  star  ;  the  dark  waters  flowing  under 
her  feet ;  the  trees  with  their  drapery^  of  funereal  moss ; 
the  gloom  of  coming  night,  formed  a  scene  which  she 
would  not  soon  forget,  hallowed  as  it  was  by  sweet  associ- 
ations. Plucking  a  bunch  of  moss  from  a  tree  near  by,  as 
a  memento  of  Tradeville,  she  took  her  husband's  arm  and 
was  soon  lost  to  us  in  the  gloaming.  As  we,  with  our  eyes, 
followed  their  retreating  footste^DS,  we  could  but  contrast 
Hope's  life  eight  years  ago  with  her  present  one— her  tlien 
with  her  noio  ;  and  at  the  same  time  we  compared  the  Old 
North  State,  as  it  was  eight  years  back,  with  what  it  is  at 
the  present  time — her  then  and  her  noio  ;  and  thus  we 
thought  of  this  title  for  our  simple  story. 


THE   END. 


